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Sometimes I cry alone
because I am so far away.
sometimes I smile for the very
same reason-
all the women in my family
have mundane bodies,
all the people in my family
are women

I don’t know when,
or on which day I promised
myself that I would cross the
ocean to go find myself
but the day came and
now I am here

my mother’s voice
only passes through a phone
yet it falls like a block on me
her sadness is my cross
her sadness is my strength

my mother just wants to move
forward, I just want to live
but these two things
are not synonyms
when she can’t see life
without me

my whole life
I have been on my knees,
I been at the mercy of someone else
and when I finally stood up
I could see things from another point of view

don’t talk to me about being strong
about not worrying
about resting
not when my mother raised
me alone, with her two hands
and broken Spanish

you’ll wake up one night
with nothing but skin
covering your emotions
maybe, you’ll understand my vulnerability

when you’re the only child,
of a single mother
with no education
and no language

you learn the privilege
in having two hands
that are well and able

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