Edmund Siejka Poet Narrative

The Young Immigrant

The Young Immigrant
   by Edmund Siejka

Every night he had the same dream 
There would be a soft knock on the door
Like a friend or neighbor would do
But no one was home
His parents left for work
Peeking through the window
He saw men in bulletproof vets
Frightened
He ran back to his room
And hid.

Time slipped by
Twenty minutes
Then a half hour
There was another soft knock on the door
His mother always told him
Bad things only come to bad people
Telling himself not to be afraid
He opened the door
One of the men asked for his name 
And told him they had a warrant for his arrest
Stunned he stood still as they cuffed his hands behind his back 
A neighbor watched from behind closed curtains
But no one came to help.

The cruel dreams always came back
Like shadows slipping into his room 
Rough hands pressing down on his chest
So hard that he couldn’t breathe.

The next morning 
Like always
His parents left for work 
The house was quiet
And he was alone  
When there was a soft knock on the door
Like a friend or neighbor would do
But no one was home
Peeking through the window
He saw men in bulletproof vets
Frightened
He ran back to his room
And hid.

With innocence
Comes a fear of the unknown
If he remained still and didn’t make a sound
The bad men 
Might go away
But what if this wasn’t a dream?

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