聯邦執勤到處抓人　移民社區人心惶惶

照片来源：路透社

清晨的天氣微涼，然而城市裡瀰漫的卻不是季節的寒意，而是一種肉眼看不見、卻人人能感受的緊繃氣息。從早上開始，手機訊息不斷跳出——哪一個公寓大樓又被聯邦官員突襲、哪一條街口又出現了執勤車輛。有人說，看見鄰居被帶走時，連門都不敢開；有人說，孩子的學校附近也出現了陌生的身影。整個移民社區，像被無形的巨手攥住喉嚨，呼吸變得急促。

在這樣的日子裡，最讓人心痛的，不是新聞裡那些冰冷的文字，而是看見那些奔波在城市邊緣的臉孔——他們或許語言不通、或許沒有足夠的文件，但他們每天辛勤工作，只為讓一家人能有口飯吃、有處安身。可是如今，他們卻成了驅逐的對象，成了恐懼的源頭。

午後我在辦公室與幾位社區領袖通話，每個人的聲音都顯得沉重。他們問：我們还能做什麼？如何才能讓這些家庭至少能擁有最基本的安全感？我知道，他們不是為了自己焦慮，而是為了那些在最底層撐起這座城市的人——送餐的、清潔的、建築工地上的、夜班的、默默付出的移民。

傍晚時分，我走出門口，天邊的晚霞被厚雲遮住，只留下一抹淡淡的金色。我突然想起一句老話：「城市的靈魂，不在高樓，而在於住在裡面的每一個人。」今天的動盪讓這句話格外刺心。因為當恐懼蔓延，人們開始沉默、退縮，城市的靈魂就悄悄暗淡。

夜深時分，街道恢復了表面的平靜，但我知道，許多家庭仍在悄聲討論著明天的去向，孩子問著不敢回答的問題，大人則在心裡默默祈求風暴趕快過去。

我在日記的最後寫下：

動盪的年代，更需要彼此相扶。願明天的城市，不再以恐懼為名，而以希望為光。

Federal Raids Everywhere — Fear Sweeps Through the Immigrant Community**

The morning air was cool today, but the chill that hung over the city had nothing to do with the weather. From early dawn, my phone lit up with message after message—another apartment complex raided by federal officers, another street corner suddenly filled with flashing lights and unmarked vehicles. Some people said they watched neighbors being taken away and did not dare open their doors. Others said they spotted unfamiliar figures near their children’s schools. The entire immigrant community felt as if an invisible hand were tightening around its throat.

What pains me most is not the cold language in the news reports, but the faces of those who labor quietly in the margins of this city—those who speak little English, who lack the right documents, yet work tirelessly day and night just to give their families a chance at stability. Today, they have become the targets of enforcement, the source of their own fear.

In the afternoon, I spoke with several community leaders. Their voices were heavy, burdened with responsibility and uncertainty. They asked: What more can we do? How can we offer even the most basic sense of safety to these families? I knew their worry was not for themselves, but for those who keep this city running—the delivery workers, the cleaners, the construction crews, the night-shift laborers, the ones who contribute quietly but unconditionally.

By evening, I stepped outside and saw only a faint gold lining behind the clouds, the last trace of a hidden sunset. A saying came to mind: The soul of a city is not found in its skyscrapers, but in the people who live within it. Today, that truth felt painfully real. When fear spreads, people retreat into silence, and the city’s soul begins to dim.

Late at night, the streets returned to an eerie calm, but I knew many households were still whispering about what tomorrow might bring. Children were asking questions their parents could not answer, while adults silently prayed for the storm to pass.

I ended my entry with a reminder to myself:

In turbulent times, we need one another even more. May tomorrow’s city be lit not by fear, but by hope.