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    Little sister poem. Be woke.❤️ #ajamonet #poem Found these wings on Sunday just strolling through DC. I’m reaching the part of the program where I’ve got so much good in my life but so much fear. When people ask me what my plans are for when my work permit expires, I kind of want to answer with silence and leave it at that. There’s no plan. There’s no plan for when that happens because something needs to pass in Congress before then. The longer the delay, the higher the chance there will be a lapse in a protected status or a  direct jump into being undocumented. There’s no shame in being undocumented. It’s just a really difficult path. Right now my hope is that people with wings, you know, permanent residents/citizens force their representatives at the state or national level to do something. I feel wingless right now. I mean, I’m entering rooms with sad poems in my mouth. I mean, I may or may not be spending a lot of time crying. I mean, I’ve got a job, poetry, bread, my mother, but no future and it stinking hurts. AND I wish I didn’t have to remind people that this is my reality, but I don’t see any new rages at society other than the regular fighters who have been fighting too too too long.💔 Practing my senses. 
#PoetryTAT #poettime
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1,000 miles: step 78

Alright. Reader, I’ll let you know what I did last summer, this past summer in fact. It’s called summer camp.

I don’t believe I’ve ever had a summer like this one. It was fun and jarring every day. I have some experience with kids at the middle school classroom level, so I know that any day with kids is a recipe for an unordinary day. At camp, the odds of a hectic day are increased. Never have I ever seen so many boo-boos and running feet or heard so many laughing and shouting mouths. Imagine doing this full-time for three months. Now, see, summer camp is for the strong at heart!

The Summer Camp Experience: whoo. ah ahhhh.

I turned 22 years old at camp, too. I can’t wrap my head around that.

I picked up some new skills, and that is always a plus in my book. I can now finger-knit and sew on a machine. I can also program a moose to move–he has to be on an iPad though. I can assemble a robot and cardboard furniture. I can help resolve an argument between friends. I can dance! (Ok ok, so that last one’s quite not true, but I can dance with slightly more rhythm.)

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