I have heard it said we should close our doors,
No matter how bitter the story or the cold.
Safer not to share the warmth of our hearth
With a stranger whose past has not been told.

But as the moon rises and I close my eyes at night,
There are these images that arise before me,
A child’s who’s sick, a woman running in fright,
A family wishing and hoping only to be free.

Do unto others is also well known to me,
So in my house I hope there will always be
Candles in the window for a stranger to see
And a place at the table right next to me.

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