Abrazos
Reflections on working in an South Texas women's immigration detention facility
“Pathetic beggars, why are you even here,
in this foreign land, in which you don’t belong?
We already know that you have only come,
to beg and to steal the bread from our young.”
Those words resounded harshly in my ears,
as I waited in that horrible place,
where I was no longer a person.
I was simply a number, an immigration case.
Held in a corner of ice, subject to these people.
These so called workers of ICE,
with frozen, mechanical hearts.
Pretending to protect their people, and their rights
Under a blanket, tiny piece of paper,
uncontrollably trembling and shaking,
our breaths were ragged and labored.
From intense cold and a faceless fear,
my children cried out, if anyone can truly hear.
A cover unable to shield us from the chilly breeze,
nor our ears from the anguished cries of mothers,
bearing the pain of seeing their children seized.
The dismissive answer was always the same,
when inquiring where their children would go,
you brought this on yourself when you broke the law,
coming here illegally, now you pay what you owe.
Food we scarcely had, our meal, if you can call it that,
was nothing more than a frozen piece of luncheon meat,
on a piece of bread almost impossible to bite.
The rigid floor became our bed,
freezing, tired, never able to rest.
I lay there, still bearing the cuts and bruises,
of those that had raped and abused me, causing me to flee.
Only to wind up in a country, just as cold as it could be.
More heartless and even icier than mine,
that never helped me, when I reported the crime,
my words falling on ears that were deaf to my cries,
I pray that you do not allow your ears to be ICE.
La hielera
“Muertas de hambre, lo que deberían hacer es a su país regresar,
porque la comida de nuestros hijos solo vienen a quitar.”
Las palabras resonaban en mi oído allí, en ese lugar,
donde me llevaron cuando la migra
me capturó al tratar de cruzar.
Un lugar que estaba más frío que una nevera,
con trabajadores hechos a semejanza de esa hielera.
Mis hijos lloraban y temblaban bajo el oscuro cielo,
del intenso frío, de profundo miedo.
Cubiertos con una manta artificial, pieza delgada de papel
que no hizo nada para quitar nuestra frialdad,
ni los temblores que sacudían nuestra piel;
ni para alejarnos de los gritos de angustiadas mujeres
al verse separadas de sus hijos, sus queridos seres.
Cuando desfallecidas preguntaban
que a dónde sus hijos se llevaban,
la respuesta insensible siempre la misma fue,
“Ustedes se lo buscaron cuando quebrantaron la ley
al venir aquí ilegalmente, cruzando ríos, montañas,
escondidas como delincuentes.”
Alimentos recibimos una vez al día
si alimento podría llamarse a esa comida tan fría,
que de embutidos congelados y pan seco consistía.
Unas migajas de miseria para conservarnos vivas.
Seguía tirada en el piso, aún con los golpes
de los que brutalmente me asaltaron y violaron,
de los que al arrancarme el vestido, rompieron mi destino.
Solamente para venir a un país sin corazón,
mil veces más frío que mi terruño querido,
que no me respaldó, cuando la denuncia se hizo.
Abrazos Editor, Cover Artist and Author