联邦执勤到处抓人　移民社区人心惶惶

照片来源：路透社

清晨的天气微凉，然而城市裡瀰漫的却不是季节的寒意，而是一种肉眼看不见、却人人能感受的紧绷气息。从早上开始，手机讯息不断跳出——哪一个公寓大楼又被联邦官员突袭、哪一条街口又出现了执勤车辆。有人说，看见邻居被带走时，连门都不敢开；有人说，孩子的学校附近也出现了陌生的身影。整个移民社区，像被无形的巨手攥住喉咙，呼吸变得急促。

在这样的日子裡，最让人心痛的，不是新闻裡那些冰冷的文字，而是看见那些奔波在城市边缘的脸孔——他们或许语言不通、或许没有足够的文件，但他们每天辛勤工作，只為让一家人能有口饭吃、有处安身。可是如今，他们却成了驱逐的对象，成了恐惧的源头。

午后我在办公室与几位社区领袖通话，每个人的声音都显得沉重。他们问：我们还能做什麼？如何才能让这些家庭至少能拥有最基本的安全感？我知道，他们不是為了自己焦虑，而是為了那些在最底层撑起这座城市的人——送餐的、清洁的、建筑工地上的、夜班的、默默付出的移民。

傍晚时分，我走出门口，天边的晚霞被厚云遮住，只留下一抹淡淡的金色。我突然想起一句老话：「城市的灵魂，不在高楼，而在於住在裡面的每一个人。」今天的动盪让这句话格外刺心。因為当恐惧蔓延，人们开始沉默、退缩，城市的灵魂就悄悄暗淡。

夜深时分，街道恢復了表面的平静，但我知道，许多家庭仍在悄声讨论着明天的去向，孩子问着不敢回答的问题，大人则在心裡默默祈求风暴赶快过去。

我在日记的最后写下：

动盪的年代，更需要彼此相扶。愿明天的城市，不再以恐惧為名，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.