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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 36

It’s been well over a week, but this June finds me settling into our new home at the corners of Alexandria city. This means a whole lotta less commuting from school to home.

There’s so much left to unpack, mostly because we don’t have much furniture. My books, those, have already made themselves cozy.  When I was ordering my books into neat piles, I came across one that was my summer reading when I was in high school:

from Elie Wiesel's Night

from Elie Wiesel’s Holocaust memoir, Night

The image of someone playing music around the “dead and dying” has never really left me. Last night, I found my favorite clip from the movie, Voces Inocentes, a film based on children-turned-soldiers during the 12 year civil war of El Salvador:

How sad

the rain sounds

on the cardboard rooftops

how sad live my people in cardboard houses

children the color of my earth

with its same scars,

millionaires of worms

look, how much suffering…

It’s the beauty and weight of hope that haunts me. Some people carry it through music. I carry it through poetry. Yet, I think everyone must carry it within.

It’s the only way to survive—second nature maybe.

I leave you with some images for this week:

2013-06-05 12.51.27

Perhaps my first sighting of a navy dragonfly (or a dragonfly in general)…

2013-06-06 11.51.52

A couple seconds after smothering this flower, it started raining on me

2013-06-06 12.50.00

Claudia’s favorite tint of purple

2013-06-06 12.39.14

Claudia after her visit to the U.S. Department of Education

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