Please feel free to share the poem below with any individuals, organizations or media outlets that it might benefit. I have written this in honor of the unspeakable courage of children who are forced refugees from horrific circumstances that we as a nation have been complicit in creating.
Child of Flight
(Dedicated to courageous immigrant child refugees)
This morning it appears
the world has changed
my garden behind the kitchen
snitches
that I am too busy to live
wisteria has its way
with garage gutters
forcing them to bend
their most unbendable parts
into uselessness
a gluttonous squirrel lays flat
in the bird feeder
sparrows to the ground
rodents to the air
yes, the world has changed
coffee drips
into the bulbous pot
a gurgling sound
lets me know
its almost done
reminds me of death
to question what last word
will wedge like a stone
between my soul
and love
unsaid, undone
the garden calls my name
a grackle flies into the cleanliness
of my perfect pane
stargazers bend at the neck
ask for help
I turn the window lock
as far as it will go
in the direction on “no”
a bracing rod drops from my hand
the world has changed
today a child
whose name I don’t know
whose eyes I cannot see
whose mouth wrinkles
with unbearable sadness
today a child from a place
I have never gone
and never will
looks out of her window
certain the world has changed
she gently drops the sound
of her mother’s voice
into a jar with a firefly
says a prayer
whispers a lullaby
later, she slips unnoticed
from the mattress
that holds
a family of five
among the mangroves
and howling monkeys
between swamp
and a blanket
of biting flies
guiltily steals
her brother’s shoes
the only pair
in the house
that is no house
walls of tin
a canvas roof
set on cinderblocks
in case of rain
she lays her name
upon the river
smoothing it out
with deliberate hands
knows it will never sound
the same way again
she must move
in the most
remarkably undetectable way
pretends her heart
is a perfect apple of long ago
takes little bites
until she is satisfied
that every morsel is gone
a vise forms itself
from scraps of dreams
forces her face into
the hard fist of tomorrow
spitting blood
she is unstoppable
the river threatens
she makes an offering
of tears, God hears
nods, she bites into her arm
to stop the hunger
if only God would turn into a plum
the air hurts her lungs
she knows the world has changed
I pour organic coffee
into a porcelain cup
milk swirls a dance
with a silver spoon
I check all the locks
the world has changed
the girl sharpens a stick
with teeth and rock
curses snakes with
forbidden grown-up words
jumps ravines hallucinates
the devil of church-talk
chewing her legs
drinks from a puddle
of filthy water
shakes demons
from her head
cities, towns, countryside
no time to look beyond
the corners of her eyes
the places I will never see
with names I will never know
fields of syringes and glass
where no one could believe
anything has ever grown
the sun hits her back
like an angry slap
they are no longer friends
finding her way to a Sunday crowd
all Bibles and patent leather
the girl unfolds her fists
to reach, to breathe
bodies bruised and full of stones
avoid the sight of her
one, only one
all scabs and scars
follows the arrows of her eyes
she thinks he must be an angel
wounded on the very long fall
from heaven
he smiles like a berry
squeezed between dirty thumbs
asks the girl her name
in such a way
that she remembers
why she left it behind
the man strokes the strap
of her handmade dress
sliding it down her shoulder
grabs her neck
like her mami did
when slaughtering a chicken
the girl freezes her eyes
crawls inside the pupils
where she cannot be followed
the world has changed today
hours move on the backs of snails
fingers poke inside the shells
time stops death
the girls awakens
with coins on her eyes
that burn the cruel tattoos
of being left for dead
a small onion sits in her hand
she eats it, peel and all
remembering abuela's lesson
that the medicine
of mother earth
is in the skin
of all that is good
she walks
from one country
to another
seeking borders
finding holes
fighting things that sting
her body a booby trap
about to burst
into bloody worms
she holds it tight
and walks
the paths
of wolves
and coyotes
sleeps on the little mercies
of doorways
tree roots
and grass
lives on a soup of dandelions and rain
she wakes, she walks
knowing the world has changed
on the best day
she plucks a feather
from a dead macaw
calls it her little friend
she knows the world has changed
pace steady, slow
fallen angels come and go
with bullets of snow
that become the only children
she will ever carry
thinks of her mother
of how angry her brother must be
that she has taken his shoes
her mouth no longer opens
she imagines her name
floating on a hammock of river
protected like a pearl
beneath her grandmother’s tongue
this miracle of thought
the mule that carries her
she bribes a mannish boy with
the coins of her eyes
to please hide her beneath
the watermelons
even if they crush her
at least then death would offer
something sweet
a man who could be his father
but is probably not
stabs the boy in the heart
with a serrated look
the boy demands the feather
for his wound
takes all that is left of the girl
she awakens on a lifeless floor
in a place of boots
and white cakes of hard soap
shattered throats
and unlit eyes
robbed of childhood
tender arms
cling to their own bodies
answering with tiny movements
to a singular name:
“Next!”
my coffee goes stale
the garden grows wilder
without me
my lips begin to part
surely the world will change
_________
Child of Flight
(Dedicated to courageous immigrant child refugees)
This morning it appears
the world has changed
my garden behind the kitchen
snitches
that I am too busy to live
wisteria has its way
with garage gutters
forcing them to bend
their most unbendable parts
into uselessness
a gluttonous squirrel lays flat
in the bird feeder
sparrows to the ground
rodents to the air
yes, the world has changed
coffee drips
into the bulbous pot
a gurgling sound
lets me know
its almost done
reminds me of death
to question what last word
will wedge like a stone
between my soul
and love
unsaid, undone
the garden calls my name
a grackle flies into the cleanliness
of my perfect pane
stargazers bend at the neck
ask for help
I turn the window lock
as far as it will go
in the direction on “no”
a bracing rod drops from my hand
the world has changed
today a child
whose name I don’t know
whose eyes I cannot see
whose mouth wrinkles
with unbearable sadness
today a child from a place
I have never gone
and never will
looks out of her window
certain the world has changed
she gently drops the sound
of her mother’s voice
into a jar with a firefly
says a prayer
whispers a lullaby
later, she slips unnoticed
from the mattress
that holds
a family of five
among the mangroves
and howling monkeys
between swamp
and a blanket
of biting flies
guiltily steals
her brother’s shoes
the only pair
in the house
that is no house
walls of tin
a canvas roof
set on cinderblocks
in case of rain
she lays her name
upon the river
smoothing it out
with deliberate hands
knows it will never sound
the same way again
she must move
in the most
remarkably undetectable way
pretends her heart
is a perfect apple of long ago
takes little bites
until she is satisfied
that every morsel is gone
a vise forms itself
from scraps of dreams
forces her face into
the hard fist of tomorrow
spitting blood
she is unstoppable
the river threatens
she makes an offering
of tears, God hears
nods, she bites into her arm
to stop the hunger
if only God would turn into a plum
the air hurts her lungs
she knows the world has changed
I pour organic coffee
into a porcelain cup
milk swirls a dance
with a silver spoon
I check all the locks
the world has changed
the girl sharpens a stick
with teeth and rock
curses snakes with
forbidden grown-up words
jumps ravines hallucinates
the devil of church-talk
chewing her legs
drinks from a puddle
of filthy water
shakes demons
from her head
cities, towns, countryside
no time to look beyond
the corners of her eyes
the places I will never see
with names I will never know
fields of syringes and glass
where no one could believe
anything has ever grown
the sun hits her back
like an angry slap
they are no longer friends
finding her way to a Sunday crowd
all Bibles and patent leather
the girl unfolds her fists
to reach, to breathe
bodies bruised and full of stones
avoid the sight of her
one, only one
all scabs and scars
follows the arrows of her eyes
she thinks he must be an angel
wounded on the very long fall
from heaven
he smiles like a berry
squeezed between dirty thumbs
asks the girl her name
in such a way
that she remembers
why she left it behind
the man strokes the strap
of her handmade dress
sliding it down her shoulder
grabs her neck
like her mami did
when slaughtering a chicken
the girl freezes her eyes
crawls inside the pupils
where she cannot be followed
the world has changed today
hours move on the backs of snails
fingers poke inside the shells
time stops death
the girls awakens
with coins on her eyes
that burn the cruel tattoos
of being left for dead
a small onion sits in her hand
she eats it, peel and all
remembering abuela's lesson
that the medicine
of mother earth
is in the skin
of all that is good
she walks
from one country
to another
seeking borders
finding holes
fighting things that sting
her body a booby trap
about to burst
into bloody worms
she holds it tight
and walks
the paths
of wolves
and coyotes
sleeps on the little mercies
of doorways
tree roots
and grass
lives on a soup of dandelions and rain
she wakes, she walks
knowing the world has changed
on the best day
she plucks a feather
from a dead macaw
calls it her little friend
she knows the world has changed
pace steady, slow
fallen angels come and go
with bullets of snow
that become the only children
she will ever carry
thinks of her mother
of how angry her brother must be
that she has taken his shoes
her mouth no longer opens
she imagines her name
floating on a hammock of river
protected like a pearl
beneath her grandmother’s tongue
this miracle of thought
the mule that carries her
she bribes a mannish boy with
the coins of her eyes
to please hide her beneath
the watermelons
even if they crush her
at least then death would offer
something sweet
a man who could be his father
but is probably not
stabs the boy in the heart
with a serrated look
the boy demands the feather
for his wound
takes all that is left of the girl
she awakens on a lifeless floor
in a place of boots
and white cakes of hard soap
shattered throats
and unlit eyes
robbed of childhood
tender arms
cling to their own bodies
answering with tiny movements
to a singular name:
“Next!”
my coffee goes stale
the garden grows wilder
without me
my lips begin to part
surely the world will change
_________
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