Migrant Workers

Mary knew the weariness
Of the journey;
To Bethlehem, To Egypt,
Back to Nazareth.
She knew the weariness,
The fear, the longing for home,
The need to continue moving, moving,
The longing for journey's end,
the longing for at least
a semblance of a home.
 
To Mary we entrust
The mothers, the fathers, the children
who today are holy families
Migrating in hope, in fear, in longing,
for peace, for some security,
For something like a home.
May they find their journey's end

Show me the suffering of the most miserable;
So I will know my people's plight.

Free me to pray for others;
For you are present in every person.

Help me to take responsibility for my own life;
So that I can be free at last.

Grant me courage to serve others;
For in service there is true life.

Give me honesty and patience;
So that I can work with other workers.

Bring forth song and celebration;
So that the Spirit will be alive in us.

A mother migrates with her children.
They hope to escape poverty.
No one will let them try.
They are turned back at the border.

A family flees to escape war and death.
They leave with nothing.
They will never return.

A father entrusts his son to a relative
who knows of a job for the boy.
The boy becomes a slave in a factory.

A young woman responds to an ad:
"Work in a factory! Make money!"
She is made to prostitute her body.