St. Stephen, the saint of masonry and day-laborers, speaks of the heaviness of undervalued and underpaid labor, the sustained faith even in the face of work that feels in vain.
The song honors the community members who participated in the NJMML workshop at St. Stephen’s Grace Community Church in Newark who shared their experiences of migration and labor, and the sacrifices made for their dreams, families, and futures. Their stories shape the heart of this work, amplifying the perseverance, dignity, unwavering spirit, and humanity of immigrant communities.
‘St. Stephen’
Aunque mis manos no sean alas
Pueden tocar las estrellas como pájaros
Though my hands aren’t wings
They can touch the stars just like birds
Aunque la lluvia sabe a lágrimas
riega la tierra como fe al miedo
Although the rain tastes like tears
It waters the earth like faith to fear
y sigo con pies cansados,
Pensamientos cargados
de tanto creer
I go on with tired feet
loaded thoughts
from believing so much
En un system quebrado
Dónde abusan los malos
a sus trabajadores
in a broken system
where the bad abuse
their workers
Sueño americano, sueño liberado
Que un día valgan la pena mis dolores
American dream, liberated dream
that one day my pains will be worth it
Sueño inundado
de codicia por desconectados
no sabo Americanos
Colonizadores
Dream flooded
with greed by disconnected
“I don’t know” Americans, Colonizers
