The Immigrant: Sonnet for Julianna

What do you pack, what do you leave behind?
What will you need once in the great unknown?
The children scrubbed, the final papers signed –
Will whispered dreams take root in new soil sown?
Tossed on the seas of doubt as homeland shrinks,
Recedes into the past, to never more
Provide warm hearth of generations. Blink
From sting of tears and glimpse the looming shore.
The sounds of English harsh, your name misspelled,
The "streets of gold" are paved with mud and stink
The dream elusive, only time will tell
If József rises tall or folds with drink.

A landowner he'll be one glor'ous day
The factory the means, your strength the way.