What You'll Find

where would we be without us?

Photo by Jaime Torres, https://tumbleweird.org/visibility-accessibility/

(Photo above by artist/photographer Jaime Torres, https://tumbleweird.org/visibility-accessibility/)

This topic weighs heavily on my mind.

I am the daughter of a Latina immigrant.

I live in a community of immigrant families.

I teach immigrants and children of immigrants and grandchildren of immigrants.

I teach in my hometown in rural, eastern Washington, in an agriculturally centered valley.

What is left without them, without us?

Tumbleweeds. Closed shops. Closed schools. Closed minds.

This is a poem I wrote on the day of our generative writing workshop:

What You’ll Find

Disappear me 
and I will take the skin
of an alligator, sharpen
my teeth on the corners 
of your Constitution. 

Disappear me
and smell the fruit rot 
on your counters
listen as your bodegas
fill with echoes.

Disappear me 
and breathe in 
your scorched 
and wasted harvest.

Disappear me 
And watch your schools empty,
teachers without students
students without teachers. 

Disappear me
and catch 
the stethoscopes 
as they fall
draw the blood
unpack the masks 
when no one’s left
to tend to your sickness.

Disappear me
and understand for once 
that there is no you 
without us.