What's a Weed?
Setting out to work the small patch of dirt that would begin my garden, a neighborhood child approached me, introduced himself, asking: “Hi! I’m Michael. Whatcha doin'?” “Hello Michael. Well...I’m planting a garden so I’m getting rid of these weeds.” He was very eager and quick, “What’s a weed?” He was looking at me earnestly. I stammered, “Weeds are the plants that you don’t want so pretty flowers can grow.” “But those are flowers…” said Michael, as he pointed to the dandelions that I had yanked from the ground. In my hand were roots and greens and several white, puffy dandelions. A seed parachute floats away slowly. True, flowers. Yes, pretty. Now I was asking myself: What IS a weed? Why do I choose what plants, which flowers, to throw away? Who explained weeds to me? What do I know? What do I think I know? I my gosh. I. Don’t. Know. And so just like that, weeds became flowers and Michael became my friend. |
Walk of the Migrant
imagine you live in a little village on a mountain you’ve always lived there your family, friends, everyone you know is there every day you play everyday, everyone plays each day you help out every one helps out there are no cars in your village except for one, or two once in a while imagine this is your village the place where you were born * *. * imagine rooster running around in the morning -- it’s there when you help grind corn at the mill waiting in line is fun you and your friends are playing you are older now you can reach the chute and pour in the corn, carefully your mother, maybe tia, is sprinkling in the right amount of water the meal is becoming soft, just so maybe today is someone else’s turn to make the tortillas maybe not imagine this is your life all you have ever known * *. * imagine little by little, things are changing adults talking about trouble your friend’s father, where is he? playing is different no mas el rio imagine your life changing before your eyes * *. * imagine more and more everything is scary listening to the adults talking about trouble stealing drugs worse you try not to hear what you can’t understand the adults of your village say “stealing,” “drugs,” worse the adults are scared imagine your life now nothing is the same * *. * imagine one day when it is still dark, your mama wakes you upn she says that it’s time to go, go where? just go you’re given a bag mama puts it over your head and your shoulder your sister says “take these clothes” you’re so scared little brother and your sister are scared you don’t say anything mama is quiet is mama scared too? imagine you are leaving this home, this place, your grandpa and your cousins, your friends and the rooster * *. * imagine you are leaving the bag around your shoulder is heavy you are walking and walking walking sometimes you ride on a truck for a little while you have to hang on tight sometimes it’s a bus crowded and bumpy for a long time it’s your turn to sleep after your sister, then your brother day after day after day imagine this is life you remember your little village * *. * imagine a new village, there is water, some food, new people you don’t want to hear the adults talking danger danger worse your bag is heavy even though you have lost some things your shoe have a hole you are thirsty, you are all hungry you sleep outside, one blanket for all there is some food in the morning tortilla, coffee imagine it is time, again you leave this village * *. * imagine so many days, like this you and your mother and brother and sister then you are at the border there are bright lights and cars, and people people in uniforms talk with your mama you sit and wait, wait and sit you sit and wait in a room there are so many people mamas, abuelas, ninos like you you are quiet, or tired, maybe scared imagine you sleep here in the morning you leave this place * *. * imagine you are in a van with mama, little brother, big sister so many others you look out one high window and see the sky it’s not a long ride. you stop and get out but no one moves. look around, where are you? cars, trucks, no horse, tall buildings there is a building is it a house? Imagine you go inside this building, this house. * *. * Imagine that there are so many people there. Some people say hello to you. They ask your mama questions. You all walk. Your sister reads on the wall, El Comedor. She says quietly, “comida.” You are all at a long table. So many others. Imagine you see a man, like your abuelo. Oraciones. * *. * Imagine yourself, eating with your family. The food is warm. It is good. A little different. You and your family are taken to a room with two beds. There are clothes are the bed, not yours, but they are for you. You all go to a place where there is shower water, un bano. You take a shower, one at a time. Imagine you play in a room with other children. * *. * Imagine this where you live, day and days It is time to go, to your primo, mama says Riding in a car, who is driving? where? Mama holds a scrap of paper again… Carlos, numbers, Chicago. You have your backpack. It is full again and you don’t know how. You are going to a bus station, you now know. There you sit and wait. Imagine you are going to the place of your primo, your cousin who you do not know. * *. * Imagine finding yourself here or there, in this new land You have a different bag. A backpack. You hear - new sounds, words, everywhere There are no paths, no rooster You miss your abuelos, primos you know, your friends The bus ride is long, so long Imagine this bus is your home for a while imagine this is your life imagine, this is all you know imagine |