October 28, 1886–the day the Statue of Liberty first held up her torch above the mist.
Crowds gathered in the harbour around her, waiting for the freedom she promised.
Freedom is the courage to keep the torch lit.
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October 28, 1886. A boat reached a port veiled in dense, grey mist.
The New York Harbour.
The boat chugged forward slowly, heavy with passengers eager to leave their pasts.
Hope felt as weary as the hands that bore it.
And there she was–a monument dressed in copper dreams.
Bearing a familiar torch.
Lina peered at her, her wrists aching from being locked in prayer.
She thought of everything she’d left behind–
Her mother’s hands.
The smell of fresh, baked bread.
The boat erupted in cheers, woven with the cry of seagulls.
Lina watched in resolute calm amid the noise, her stillness–
Astute bravery.
Visions of the statue lowering her arms flooded her mind–
Not to welcome her, Lina, but to rest.
After all, the bronze lady must be tired of carrying the torch–
Mercy began with understanding one’s tiredness.
Lina stepped off the boat–but she didn’t feel victorious.
She understood.
That the statue didn’t promise a life of ease–she only meant to pass it on.
She stood for all who gazed at her to move forward.
To those like her, Lina, to keep it lit, with trembling fingers.
To teach that each person must lift their own torches, shaking yet steadfast
For a universal glow.
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The Getting Literal Writing Alcove 