Three Doors

In a worn photograph
On the table in the hall
Proud and silent
A monument to all
They call my attention
It’s the look in their eyes
They ask me to follow
Down the stairs and to the right
Three doors
Though the chalkmarks have faded
They still bear the signs
Of hunger and danger
Of standing in line
A white and blue prayer shawl
A black signet ring
The hopes that they carried
Was all they could bring
Three doors
A dream of America
A place to live free
To work hard and prosper
To change history
In a worn photograph on the table in the hall…