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    Spring backward. #photoaday #flowerstagram #firstdayofspring #spring #lastofwinter ❄️❤️ So yesterday, I ran a poetry workshop at a middle school and hearing the words from these youth, I feel a lot better about the world. One boy wrote a poem & was very shy about reading it. I offered to read it for him. To my surprise, he wrote about people wanting freedom and not being “illegal.” I hope he finds the courage some day to read the poem because these days, hate voices itself louder than love. Our kids deserve better role models. I didn’t grow up thinking about my immigration status, but I think many children have to now. 💔I’m at a very low point in my hope bank. I’m taking notes on how to say goodbye to a country. I think one way is love and one way is poetry.
#loveislouder #happyworldpoetryday This Sunday I made it to church at a Unitarian Universalist congregation. I arrived as a panelist for an immigration and human rights discussion. My audience was majority White. I started with a poem and then my college journey narrative. It is a heavy feeling to be a person who potentially faces deportation or undocumented status and to stand in front of an audience that though sympathetic, cannot imagine what your world is like. They listened to me and the other panelists very actively. One of the panelists, Klara Bilgin, showed us this poster-size cover of Time magazine’s March issue with her own addition “Why America?” At the end I was surprised that most people had comments rather than questions. When we say immigration is a controversial issue or a “hot topic,” it’s true. I got to see it today by people commenting on their experience traveling abroad without borders or their observations of how much labor is expected of undocumented immigrants. Many of them were proposing solutions. I wish Congress were as productive as these people were in their 15 or so minutes to comment and ask questions. #rageatCongress #votesmart #speakup Little sister poem. Be woke.❤️ #ajamonet #poem
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1,000 miles: step 3

Wednesday kicks off Thanksgiving break, which lasts until Monday this year for me. It was a week long when I was at Simon’s Rock, a little liberals arts college in Massachusetts.

And I know exactly how to make use of this little vacation, which includes Saturday and Sunday. Why wouldn’t it, you ask? Because I’m taking an 8 week course on Saturdays and there’s my biology class on Sundays. Oh, yes, Claudia planned out her schedule feeling like Superwoman. Community colleges are Superwoman-friendly.

But I make do with what have, and lots of determination is on that list. I am surviving with my sanity and those grades are looking appealing. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll survive with good hair days.

Check this out,

I felt the need to doll myself up for a friend’s wedding yesterday. Her name is Keila. I met her 4 years ago when her family took me and my mother into their home in Maryland, and then encouraged us to tag along when they moved back to their home in Washington, DC.

I wasn’t able to talk a great deal with her yesterday: everyone hogs the bride, and the residue of a cold I caught last week made me bow to silence.

When I think about it, I actually have so much to tell her. Like, why must you pack your things and move all the way to Texas? I’ve seen less of her now that I’ve moved back to my home-state, Virginia, but the thought of someone nearer than farther is comforting. Now she’ll be states away, and as long as she’s finds happiness like no other, let things be, no?

And maybe it’s not the fact that she’s moving across states that’s bugging me.

So what exactly forms a lump in my throat? Perhaps her younger brother has answered this for me; I too, am selfish. That groom really is taking a treasure, and the older sister I never had. I suppose, we all cling on to memories and unknowingly claim people as ours because of those memories. I let go of memories because putting up a fight is not the way I was designed.

Yet… my selective memory is not enough to dissolve sisterly friendship.

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