Manifest Destiny: A Refugee Story

by Jen Anyong

A creative account marrying the story of my grandparents’ escape from communism in the late 1950’s to Francis Scott Key’s “The Star Spangled Banner” from 1814.

We settle into our covering at the dawn’s early light.

Our breath still thundering in our chests.

White mist bellowing from our mouths,

Nearly giving away our position in the bitter air.

The fresh unit on patrol will be well rested.

Yet, sleep evades us as sunbeams brighten this new day.

Any dreams we do conjure will be nightmares

Of last nights’ journey toward the border,

In our escape from the perilous fight.

Here we will wait until the disguise of darkness,

Though it never spares us the rockets’ red glare.

What so proudly we hailed as revolutionaries,

We now move in silence, secretive, stealth.

Last night was especially tumultuous.

We crept through the ramparts,

Scaled the barbed wire fencing,

Into a treacherous clearing.

The bombs bursting in air

Barely concealing the crunch of our

Sprinting feet through the brittle grass.

It was then I lost the ground from beneath me.

My ankle turned, my wrist bruised, my head faint.

It was a different kind of darkness, a dirty, crumbly

Gash in the earth’s crust.

And it, of course, found me.

I couldn’t shout for help.

That would have sentenced us both to death.

I sat silent and my brain raced faster

Than my legs could ever travel.

I began plotting my singular getaway,

Just as a familiar garment came into view.

So gallantly streaming in the wintry wind,

His scarf, knitted with love by his mother,

Wrapped tight around his forearm.

Dangled as a lifeline to me in the pit.

Mustering all of his strength, he raised me

Out of the hollow hell,

Back to the dark theater of our war.

We trudged onward for what must have been hours

Until the twilight’s last gleaming.

We staked a safe place of cover for the day,

And here we are, finally catching our breath.

We wait, taking turns keeping watch,

Whispering about the final fraction of our journey.

Though the sun shines and the air crisps with cold,

My body gives in to sleep.

But this sleep is no nightmare.

Instead I dream of the land of the free,

The home of the brave.

A star-spangled banner of

Broad stripes and bright stars

That too, survived a tumultuous night.

When I awaken, I’m filled with peace,

Even greater purpose.

It was only a glimmer of the future,

But it was everything I needed to persevere.

I lean over and whisper, “Oh, say, can you see?”

Then we daydream together, fingers intertwined,

Silently composing a National Anthem,

With our fervent touch.

This is a true story, from my grandmother’s perspective, of their fleeing Hungary at age 17, on one particular night just before they found refuge in Austria. It was this night that she had a very close call, a very brave moment, and she persevered. My grandparents made it to America by 1959 (their arrival manifest is the featured image) where they remain today. This is an homage to their journey, their great hope, and their true love for America.