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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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On friendship and living

The things that happen when I’m away:

I’ve got friends working 8 hour shifts, who have learned to tackle work and class schedules without forgetting how to breathe. I’ve got friends with marriage plans, promising to pause on the baby-raising. I’ve got friends who made no such promises, and are raising babies on their own.

The things that happen when I’m away.

I’ve got friends with schedules that conflict with our get-togethers and long nights of texting. We don’t talk much about boys or music anymore. We ask small talk questions like: how are you? They make me believe we’re constants, that we’ve settled into every day routines. I can’t wait for a time and place to see how we really are.

The things that happen when I’m away.

I’ve got friends often younger than myself. All I’ve got to show I’ve been living is a 2 year college degree, which I haven’t held in my hands yet. Oh, and I’ve got a driver’s license (no car). I’ve got plans to cut my hair this year. Nothing much when I feel like a mother who’s watching her children grow up at double time.

The things that happen when I’m away.

I’ve got friends who have learned what I take with bittersweet submission. The things that happen when I’m away are about moving, about living, about being. The details of our living are now our own.

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