Hope Immigration Poems

the man across the street
walks tenderly
   on hallowed soil
he can’t   believe 
   has space
   for him.

Every day
the...

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I recall many brights stars
but no moon
for lack of guiding light
we will sink soon

I see ladies 
with much fancier clothes
lowered with room to spare 
in...

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I didn’t know if I was going to make it through the night, my feet were as cold as ice, my heart was where it...

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Author’s note: The following is in haibun form—poetic prose (microfiction with less than 200 words in this case) coupled with a haiku. It was written...

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Beauty in the eye of the beholder
Rare trees and abandoned homes
Where doors are full of bullet holes
And the wicked sun tries to dye the paint
On...

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Jose Mendoza, was a young migrant farmworker,
he was harvesting sweet potatoes on
Barnes Farming property in Spring Hope, 
North Carolina on September 5, 2023.
The temperature was...

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A Child at Tornillo

Telling my story makes it real
Brings it into existence
What I thought I knew
What I know now
Wasn’t real
No matter how 

Well intentioned
Well thought...

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In the depths of the Mediterranean's embrace, 
Where waves and sorrow interlace, 
A tragic tale unfolds each passing day, 
Of lives lost, dreams shattered, swept...

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Whistle... and I'll come to you...
Through the sea, across the land

And with my mittens, 
Warm your hand



[Inspired by reading "S.O.S. Titanic" by Eve Bunting. Read...

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There are no heroes
……………only those who do what must be done.

They wait in pre-dawn darkness
………………for an always late bus

Find ways to make one more meal
………………….from...

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Water

We all need "water" to live. 
We need to drink it, 
wash with it, 
shower with it, 
swim in it, 
watch it, 
play with it,...

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MIGRATING

Juana and I sit on the fence,
swing our legs,
throw seeds for birds,
check nests for eggs.

Juana,
like the migrating bird
that traveled mile upon mile,
is here now too,
but...

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I grip the shifting sands, the drifting dirt.
I pull the earth and let fall through these rough fingers.

I pull the power of raw nature. 
I...

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From marble and granite to steel and glass,
we were discussing Rhina Espaillat’s On the Avenue in class,
was it 1950s or 1980s NYC and were the...

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Life is like the ocean,
Vulnerability is your sail,
Hope is the wind that propels you,
To the land that's known so well.
Trees are made of stone and...

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