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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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full and unbroken

In a couple of hours, I’ll be checking up on PostSecret for the weekly Sunday secrets. This has become a tradition for me. I brought the tradition into my dorm when I was at Simon’s Rock. When it became a tradition? I’ve lost count.

But I can remember one of the first secrets I read. It looks something like what I’ve drawn on my math board:

Snapshot_20130323I, too, miss being a little girl. Anything seemed possible back then. Most importantly, my heart was full and unbroken. In the words of Andrea Gibson:“Now my heart is a pressed flower in a tattered Bible.”
Growing up changes everything. My blood pumping organ has yet to break. My expectations, however, have changed. For one thing, I’ll never get back my 4 person family. The little brother, the father and mother figure, and me united. Imperfect but united. I will forever have one foot in that family moment.

Families are not chosen the way friendships are. My blood stretches to a half-sister in El Salvador, who’s expecting a visit from her siblings and mommy this year. And it will be so.:) There are enough broken and empty hearts in our family tree as it is.

My blood also stretches to a father who was absent for the first 6 years of life and now again for these past 4 years. I think his heart must have a leak. He’s been trying to fill it with money and women. He’s yet to realize that properly raising my little brother is all he needs.

In fact, I have found much more Family in my mother’s current long-term partner than with my father. Here’s a sketch of us:

2013-03-22 23.10.16


I often ache for things that require money and time, neither of which are mine.

  • Swimming lessons
  • Dance lessons and a pair of ballerina slippers (be mine PostSecret?)
  • Piano and voice lessons
  • Art supplies and art lessons
  • And oh, so many books of poetry…

When I ache for such things, I have to remind myself how selfish I am being.  I have a mother who smothers me in love, a woman who has made sure there is always food on the table and a roof over my head—even if that roof is shared.

I have the greatest thing anyone could ever ask: unconditional love. While life is full of impossibilities, love rightfully changes things.

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