Hej Władysław

Hej Władysław
I was chillin 
On your new site
Great Grandson’s
Porch but in P’ville
Not South Slope

You were probably
Fifteen years old
When the first home owner, he just
Glided ghostly past me,
Never ever dreamt
About this site and us three

You weren't even
Here nor there
Instead transitioning
Ethnically at Ellis
In your head
To a new homestead

Why abandon a farm
To board a steerage ship
Steer a ship at your age?
Surrendering no power
Yet you’re named young steer
But what awaits on the horizon?

You boringly conquered 
Below the east river
Serviced ships
Harboring their cargo
Which sailed
Above your tunnel

Over a century hence
There is a clan, not yet 
A tribe, but widening
With each generation
All made bright
By your immigrant’s insight

So your progeny’s abode
Becomes a mental monument
Amusing to know
That the original inhabitant
Would never know you
Nor could you, he bar-code