Sorry

They always ask, “Why did you migrate?”

But never, “What’s the migrants’ fate?”

Speaking of obstacles they face

to survive in an unknown place.

Along this retrospective text,

From the darkest to the brightest

to summarize I’ll do my best

my first moments in the U.S.

I came here in two thousand sixteen

sixteen years old, I was a teen.

Two weeks prior to my birth feast,

I was brought to a berry field

where from six on morning’s first beat

to four or five in the evening

I picked berries in the sun’s heat,

For the first time of my being.

After my long six weeks in the field,

I was brought to a strange city

where I’m afraid of being killed

by the anger raging the streets.

I faced the migrants’ verity

of barricade of languages

when with very little English,

I went to school and got a seat.

My first weeks, I was bullied each day,

heard my name; ignored what was said,

while I was a positivist,

in my classes silent I stayed;

getting laughed at; I was afraid.

if I could I’d have gone away

to flee my own race’s nativists,

but I could just acculturate.

Four chapters of a book I read.

each night unknown words I noted;

improve my English I wanted,

learning more words; end my silence;

get in class with more confidence.

Taking this enlightening pathway,

failed to pass an entrance exam.

I was crestfallen right away

I became more impelled than ever;

while taking care of my sisters,

days and nights reading and writing,

my English I was increasing.

Beginning of the second term

I gained the Principal’s award

for all As from last semester

sign that I was getting on board.

As my English was amplifying,

National Honor Society,

Spanish Book added to Drama

and more clubs I started joining

Spanish and English I practiced

as I got a bit more involved.

When I met my needs for reading

after the long weeks of struggle,

I have found a little peace,

while waiting for my next battle

When I’ve chosen to dual enroll

a new challenge to me has come.

Four miles away from my classes,

“How would I get there?” I wondered

To me a bike my counselor gave

to take the road — my black bomber

Two days a week, I had to ride

Pedalling forty-five minutes

 towards my glistening future.