(Based on a true story)
“This poem/reflection is based on a true experience that one of our men from our parish had in crossing the border. He is a man of deep faith and after secretly returning to Guatemala to take care of his parents for a while, he crossed the border again. He suffered much from exhaustion and dehydration this time around in the desert and this was the experience the group he was in encountered at the threshold between two deserts. It’s a story of resurrection. The deserts on both sides of the border are the tombs of so many. To come out alive and even invisible is resurrection.” – friar Julio Martinez
Hidden, deeply hidden
In the lives of so many who today I call mi pueblo querido,
Without the slightest tinge of possessiveness,
Lives an inner strength
Whose magnitude appears invisible in their humility
And humiliation.
Make us invisible, “Diosito mío,”
He prayed as la migra stopped their vans
in front of the bush we hid behind.
Make us invisible
In our paralyzing fear.
Don’t let one muscle move behind this burning bush.
Let us not blink one eye.
Hide us in our humility.
Cover us in our humiliation.
Make us invisible, Diosito mío.
The way they want us to be.
The border is a soup
Of humiliation, fear, faith, and hope.
It’s the place where faith grows strong
It’s a place where God rescues
The lucky.
Hidden.
All too visible.
It keeps you from moving
When you need to.
It keeps you moving
When you have to run.
Let your invisible force
Keep us invisible, Papa Dios.
Virgencita,
Madre mía,
Cuídame, take care of us.
Hide us in your belly.
Make us invisible.
The vans stayed and stayed.
The guards talked, smoked, listened for voices and noises.
They stayed and stayed
For an eternity
And we didn’t move behind the burning bush.
Ten hours they stayed
Or was it ten years?
Looking for someone to devour and
We, like frightened beasts
Lay stilled and lifeless
Afraid to breathe.
Make us invisible,
Virgen de Guadalupe,
Madre mía y Madre nuestra.
Tell your sons to go away.
Help us to breathe again.
We must be strong,
Eyes conveyed to eyes behind the bush
In the blazing heat
Of a sun on fire.
We must be strong.
We must be quiet.
Don’t move. Don’t breathe.
Be still.
Ay! Ten Piedad, Señor.
Make us invisible.
San Miguel Arcangel,
Protect us from the devils,
The uniformed sons
Of Mary.
Ten hours of paralysis.
Ten years of thirst
For breath.
They drive off
Seeing only a bush,
Our burning bush.
So hard to move, to blink, to catch our breath again,
Madre mía.
Help us move our lungs
To breathe again.
Down the road they stop.
In clear sight they get out…again
And we freeze in the middle of the road.
Our gazes lock.
Breathing stops again and
Panic invades life.
The hunters
Shrug their shoulders.
There’s nothing to see.
They drive off.
We disappear
Into the miracle.
