Yearning to Breathe Free?

Most everyone in the United States and very many people in the world are familiar with the inspiring lines inscribed on a plaque in the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty:

Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses

The phrase comes from Emma Lazarus’s poem, “The New Colossus.” I’ve noticed that a few people seem to treat the poem as if it expresses some official policy of the USA, but it does not; it was written as part of a public effort to raise money to build the statue’s pedestal. And from some of the recent rhetoric about immigration, it seems that a few people leave out an important clause, treating the lines as if the statue is said to be welcoming any and all tired, poor, huddled masses as opposed to those “yearning to breathe free.”

It seems, then, that we need to re-emphasize that part.

First, what does it mean to yearn? Most of us know this in our bones, because we do so even if we may not use the word. We all have (or have had) things we yearn for, important things we earnestly desire with a depth so profound that to fail to achieve them would be a fate nearly as dire as death. Perhaps we yearn for love, or success, or a peaceful existence, but whatever it is, we wish for it with all our heart even if it may be beyond our reach.

Then what does it mean, really mean, to breathe free? Is it simply to be liberated from whatever persecutions or hardships we face, to be even momentarily out from under the boot of oppression or poverty or disease? Not quite. Temporary release would be a reprieve rather than a life. Breathing free may at first come by escaping from a previous situation, but continuing to breathe free comes at the price of the effort to maintain that freedom.

Yearning to breathe free, then–and particularly yearning to keep breathing free as time goes on–means not only the earnest desire to achieve freedom but also the deep commitment to hold on to and support that freedom by will and effort. I don’t pretend to know the situations of everyone, but that commitment seems to be lacking in some of the tired and poor who behave as if coming here is supposed to automatically and immediately confer rest and riches, as if the Declaration of Independence said happiness is to be granted rather than pursued. Admittedly, that same commitment seems to be lacking in some of those born here, who behave likewise as if they expect and are entitled to a lifetime of breathing free. Yearning to breathe free is not a wish to be released from toil, but a wish to enjoy the benefits of one’s toil; not a wish to be subjugated to a life of dependence on others, but a wish for a life of opportunity to survive … and maybe even to prosper.

How about you? Do you yearn to breathe free? If so, I bet you know that it entails more than just wishing for liberty: it requires working for it.

(Image: The Statue of Liberty, by AskALotl, on Wikimedia Commons.)

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I would be remiss if I did not present the full poem, which contrasts the then-to-be-erected Statue of Liberty with the classical Colossus of Rhodes. It is in the public domain, and is deserving of close study:

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

It’s a wonderful sonnet, and I appreciate Ms. Lazarus’s turns of phrase (especially “imprisoned lightning” to describe electricity). I may have read more into it than Ms. Lazarus intended, but that’s what we do with all writings, from the Bible to blog posts: interpret them in our own ways, and read between the words and lines for what they mean to us.

In the end, I wish for us all the opportunity to continue to breathe free.