as it happened

he walked in carrying the past few days on his skin, his mother’s eyes swelled with tears rolling down her warm face. mother/son, embraced, deep breathes.

que paso? donde andabas?

he began to tell the story of being detained at the border, unclear why he was there, he was stripped naked, put in a small room with other naked men. they are from centro-america, son mexicanos, de muchas diferentes partes de latino america.

they tried to coerce me to sign voluntary deportation documents.

more than 24 hours later they released me.

so many details not yet revealed about what happened to him and how it reflects our inhumane treatment of each other. i’m completely overwhlemed and have no idea where to put this story. do i blog it? do i journal it? do i keep it in my heart? should i just share it verbally?

i want to be like the child that smuggled in birds for her imprisoned father, i want to smuggle in birds into myself so that i remember the beautiful things of life too. it would be so easy to let myself float into isolation with these stories and thoughts. running from human interaction, in fear of my own kind.

how do i smuggle in hope to keep a smile on my face and a lightness in my heart?




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