My Story

by Melisa

I started my life on November 27th in Mexico.
The first little gift of eight children.
My childhood, happiness.
My hands planted roses, carnations, flowers.
The made tortillas,
Washed everyone’s clothes joyfully.
I used to play with my grandma,
Both of us playful and happy.
I spend days at the river with my friends,
Eating jocotes, guayabas and cherries. 

Life took a turn
And the beatings from my father
Ran me out of the house.
Full of fear, I left the river,
The park and everything familiar,
With the dream of being able to help them.
I crossed the border without noticing,
I was sleeping as I entered without papers. 

Six years passed without seeing my parents,
Until they came to see me, incarcerated.
"Hello daughter," a man said to me.
"I’m your father."
My tears and joy greeted the thin man,
Thin from not eating
Because they thought I was below the earth.
"I want to see my mother."
"She didn’t come because of our little baby." 

I dream of studying, working, helping them.
I dream of being with them.

More Poems from The Cuentame Project
Later, I Returned to the Streets
Teenage Widow
If They Could Speak