Standing on the Edge

I feel it deep down inside me,

This compulsion to find a new life.

Across that way is another

Who feels completely different.

Though I have little choice 

They still stay subjective toward me.

Some say I’m no more than a wetback,

Others say I don’t slack.

My abuela cooks me dinner,

While my mom decides our future.

The man behind the iron gates have little to mention,

This whole situation… I have no comprehension.

Carrying my belongings on my head,

Fearing that I might not have a bed.

The night is long and scary,

I feel like a kid again and La Llorona is out to get me.

We made it, I’m soaked.

I will not be quiet, My voice won’t be choked.

It all happened so fast, La migra! La migra!

For just a second I saw it, I was standing on the edge

To freedom.


Being sent back, I’ve never felt such pain.

The red desert sun is rising again.

Will my spirits ever do the same?

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