I can not tell you about the journey
sometimes I close my eyes
and imagine a pitch black sky
with a thousand little stars
imagine a poetic crossing
my Abuela’s hand tugging at my arm
a rush of wind
Abuelo leading the way
I imagine crossing without fear
just dreams
and Abuela’s goals
to raise my brother and me
into hardworking men
I crossed without the trauma
latching onto my body
crossed unscarred
even though
mis viejitos
tell me
how they had to
stuff the four of us under the backseat of a car
sometimes I wish I could remember
then maybe just maybe
I would have another story to tell
I can only tell you about how poor we were
living in that small apartment
in the Eastside
how embarrassed I was
to invite my friends over
even though we all lived like this
I can only tell you about how proud I was of Abuela
who asked me to teach her English
scribbled on the refrigerator door
You can sometimes see the residue
of the markers I used to teach her basic words
like thank you, god bless you & you are welcome
I wish you would ask of the memories
I had before my identity became political
about the laughs
the joy
the things I love
about the way we have managed to survive
I wish you would focus on the magic
that is to take this country’s trash
and make it into art
I wish I could tell you about the journey
but all I know is that I am here
and I am not going anywhere
this is my home now.
Yosimar Reyes