Across the plains, across the sand,
They journey forth to freedom's land.
Yet laws are bent, the lines are crossed,
And order's weight is dearly lost.
A hospital cries with crowded halls,
The classrooms groan within their walls.
The taxes rise, the wages fall,
A pressure mounts to strain us all.
A farmer pays in honest sweat,
Yet wonders where the balance's set.
For labor's cheap, but fairness fades,
When rules are blurred and debts unpaid.
The sheriff sighs, the courts delay,
Ten thousand cases stack each day.
The border guards, with eyes worn red,
Can't count the footsteps where they've fled.
Communities feel sudden change,
Familiar streets seem new and strange.
The housing market swells with need,
And rents take flight with ruthless speed.
Yet still the tale is not one side,
For many come with hope as guide.
They toil, they tax, they cook, they clean,
Their dreams as vivid as they've been.
So here we stand in troubled hour,
A nation vast with tested power.
To hold the law, to guard the gate,
Yet show compassion, not just hate.
For aggravation fills the air,
When justice lags or seems unfair.
But balance sought on righteous ground,
May heal the rifts that now abound
