Let me show you… this wound right here, in my side, was cut with the edge of my Green Card

Let me show you… this wound right here, in my side, was cut with the edge of my Green Card. Right here, by my heart, you’ll find a picture of a park where my cousins play and grow up without me. Now, inside my heart, much deeper, my sister’s womb’s heartbeats are too far away for me to hear. And in my pocket, my best friends will soon forget me. If you see my feet you’ll find that they are vanishing, ready to go live my life happening without me, far away, where I am not, not there, not there yet, never again, never the same. The foot that remains walks the street, a million miles away.  My nausea condems future trips back home, because in my gut, my passport will have two new stamps, one that goes , one that returns, and two stamps are too confusing for me to digest. This wound right here, on my other side, is the pain that Lima gave me when I came here. She told me to miss her and taught me to hate her. And I learned. I learned to miss faces, and arms around me and hate her pains of tensing my body while walking the streets, waiting for someone to rob or to rape me. And my hands… my hands are full of prayers to see the wrinkles of my uncles and aunts, who are aging, before it’s too late. Let me show you… how to look through my eyes, and through those that still want to find out why they are here, why they left all behind, why they still can’t relate and see themselves in a world where they belong. Lima is our home, but not anymore. And our legs cannot stand in this place, not for long. We are vanishing, half over there, half over here. Mi imagen flota en transición y la emoción ahoga lágrimas rotas. Después de tanto, it’s too pointless to cry. En la garganta, llevo silencio infinito, y en el alma, tres gotas de libertad.