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.