Monday, May 1, 2006
As I approached my jobsite, I noticed that all hispanic businesses were closed. I felt guilt. It was a moment of solidarity, and I wasn’t being part of it. As I came across students and coworkers, I kept my eyes down. I was ashamed to be at work. I know the plight of the undocumented immigrant… I lived it for more than a decade.
He packed a hat, a couple of shirts, Â¬â€ seven pictures,Â¬â€ some advice, and a thousand memories.Â¬â€ He had to put aside his dream of succeeding without having to leave home.Â¬â€ He directed his pleas to the crucifix resting on a shelf; he asked the Lord toÂ¬â€ please take care of those he was about to leave behind.Â¬â€ Â¬â€ With a smile clearly bathed with insincerity, he bid farewell to those he loved.
Somehow he managed to cross the border, but as soon as he set foot in his new home he became known as “wetback.”Â¬â€ Â¬â€ Bound to be kept wet by his nostalgia-induced tears, the pitiful wetback carries a burden that nobody else would dare withstand.Â¬â€ Â¬â€ He’s oppressed because he’s not able to produce a document that demonstrates his legal status.Â¬â€ Â¬â€ Overwhelmed by his desire to return home one day, he can’t see a freeway in the distance without hoping it were the small trail he used to know back home.Â¬â€ Although he was promised by the heavens the unalienable right to seek happiness wherever it may be found, society seems determined to convince him that he’s an outcast, and, thus, unworthy — all because he refused to die of starvation at home.
Empacó un par de camisas, un sombrero,
Empacó sus ganas de quedarse,
Dijo adiós con una mueca disfrazada de sonrisa.
Si la luna suave se desliza
El mojado tiene ganas de secarse.
El suplicio de un papel lo ha convertido en fugitivo.
Si la luna suave se desliza por cualquier cornisa sin permiso alguno.
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