What a man works for feeds his spirit. |
Migrant Wishes The humidity was so high you felt like you were swimming in the air. The sun baked each worker on what was certainly, the hottest day of the year. But Miguel continued his job to make money, to put bread on the table for the family. Ten hours of mowing thick, green grass and Trimming bushes was expected of him. The promise of money meant that his wife And unborn son could enjoy what he had worked for. He thought of all of the things he wanted to change. Miguel wished to be a citizen of this land Of unlimited freedoms and golden opportunities. He pushed the mower harder so maybe, one more yard could be cut. Sweat was splashing into his tired, brown eyes. His shirt stuck to his body. His legs began to feel heavy like rocks. Then he heard a foreign voice call for all to “Stop.” He saw the other workers put away the machines. With his hat in his hand, he walked to the boss, when he heard his name called. He was the last man to be paid that day. He would run home and dance a wonderful Slow dance of happiness with Bonita. Another day has ended and the night was all theirs. They would sit and listen to news of the war That was invading their former home. |