By the side of the Road - Helpless

The following poem I wrote years ago, from an article published in the Los Angeles Times about a Mexican illegal who was hit by a car and lay by the roadside for four days before anyone decided to help him. If this new immigration legislation is passed, people will have just one more reason to ignore such a tragedy.

HIT AND RUN
"Mexican Lies By Freeway for four days after being hit by car."
Los Angeles Times


It has been a long day,
I have worked hard for
the twenty dollars in my pocket
I must go home now, home to Mama.

First I piss in the bushes
by the freeway, then cross
through a hole in the fence;
a passage I take daily

from my barrio to the corner where
we stand, my muchachos and I, waiting,
waiting to use our lean backs, our strong
backs, waiting for money to save our families.

I am strong and always wear dirty shoes
to show I work often and hard.
My mama waits for me, and my little
hermana, her trusting eyes

will speak to me, saying hello
before hiding in Mamas skirt.
This is a special day,
a good day for Mama, I run across the traffic,

I am thinking of Mama and her special day.
I hear music, foreign and loud,
then the air is around me.
What am I doing? The ground is a dream.

I hear my Mama speak to me;
"You are late I have prepared your dinner,
beans again I know, but you are strong
and soon...soon..."

Suddenly I am tired, I am tired, Mama,
it has been a long day.
I will lie here for a while, my legs
are like stone, my arms have

nothing to hold but my pockets are full,
they are full, Mama.
I am cold, but I am not asleep.
I can see the stars.

They speak to me,
like you Mama, they tell me I am strong.
They tell me of our family,
they tell me not to forget that

we are descendants of kings
buried in our motherland and,
thinking of their children like
you are thinking of me, Mama.

I am warm, the sun is relentless
and I am sure my clothes are wet and dirty.
Oh Mama, I do not want to
burden you, your work is never ending,

your days the same, your life marked
only by us, your children and pain; that
is all you will ever have or expect to have.
I am strong Mama, I get up, but

the air so cold in places
that I have not felt cold before.
I am standing, but I am tired.
An old man across the road scowls....

like Papa when I was small.
his face a dark map.
I lie down again, my legs
are a sharp pain.

Just a little while longer Mama,
then I promise I will be on my way.
Besides my clothes are wet,
I will dry them first, then

I will come home ... I will come home.
Conchita my sister I cannot
play with you tonight.
Tonight I am cold.

I dream that I lie on a road.
The road stretches home
but I am bound with rope
and cannot move...

The world is a slow place,
with anxious faces bending over me.
Papa, you watched me as I slept.
I remember now what you said

do not pull away, I am strong,
you told me to be strong and
I am for you Papa, I am for you
and for Mama, I am sorry you have to leave.

The red lights circle
reminding me of the times when I
close my eyes and put my
face towards the sun.

I like to do that, I smile
when I know that my work
is finished and I can come
home to you...Mama.

They tell me I am strong.
I know I am Mama, I am strong for you
and Conchita and Papa.
He looked at me, he told me a secret.

He said I will live Mama.
I will live forever.
I was tired Mama, I was
so tired, I am sorry dinner got cold.

I will be home soon.
The men that say I am strong
will let me rest and then
I will come home,

then Mama, you rest.
I will bring you money
and I will work hard, Mama
I will work hard because I am strong.

Anniversary

Both my parents are gone. On this, the anniversary of my fathers death, I measure my separation by the war in Irag. He died the day the Iragi conflict started. Good thing too or what has happened since would have definately done him in. He was a man of unshakable principles, willing to suffer for them, he did not walk the common road and yet he would have been the first to tell you how common he was. His legacy was fleeting, as is all of ours, as is every young man and woman who have given their lives in a conflict that should never have been waged.In the early days a small percentage of the American population believed what a larger percentage now knows, that invading Irag was a mistake. If my father was young, I am sure he would have stood in protest as he did in previous wars, not just to the specifics of the conflict, but to the irrationality and in-humanity of war itself. There was no doubt that having the parents I had, has formed the person I am. My morality and humanism stems not from dogma, but from the understanding that all men deserve the respect and care that we reserve for ourselves. That one of our biggest flaws is that we often do not believe we deserve it and therefor no-one else should have it either. In my parents name, I feel it is imperative to spread the natural law, there is only one, and we are all a part of it, no matter what our race, creed, beliefs. Perhaps the mistake is that we do treat others as we would have them treat us because we believe we are flawed and are separate. Just as my father died at the birth of a war, so war must die to birth a new world.

Why Are We Silent?

We were brought into a war based on a lie - we did not rise up in protest.

We are being spied on illegally - we have not been outraged.

People of stature and ethics have been vilified - we have kept silent.

We have the largest debt in the history of our nation - we stand mute.

The rich get richer and the number of poor rises daily - we shrug our shoulders.

Fear is being promoted like chewing gum - and we cower in our corners.

When will we, the people, say enough is enough? This administration depends on our silence. Silence to injustice, to theocracy, to their lies.

There are two things we can do.

1. Accept our fate and do nothing.
2. Or Change things.

What the soldier saw

Just spoke with a client who recently returned from Iraq. He has pictures and video of how things are over there where he was stationed. He plans to make a documentary out of the footage, without presenting a point of view, but leaving it up to the viewer to decide what to think about it. Isn't that true free speech?

He also told me about the waste and massive amounts of money that has been mishandled. The burning of toxic materials that then creates a cloud of rank and dangerous smoke and gas which floats across the countryside.

What is the truth over there? It has to come from those who live it, it certainly won't come from the administration or the media.