This area of my life is so shaded that I start to believe that it never existed. That it never happened. Until I’m reminded of my realities by subtle nuances, like, remembering that I can’t travel because of a confiscated passport, to waking up each day in a room unfamiliar to me for the past thirteen years, or the fact that I no longer feel the warmth of the woman I fell in love with next to me, to not being able to hear the pitter-patter of my son coming up the stairs to our room to wake us and squeeze between my wife and I every morning. This explains my inability to sleep. I hate that fucking shade. Because once the windows crack open and the flames of reality blaze through, I am engulfed with that overwhelming emotion of all is lost and happiness and rest can never truly be found in it.
Thoughts left to thaw, dreams on hold
Families distraught, deja-vu for most
Time is of the essence, a detainees’ time is ghost
Sometimes I sit and float to the time when I was sentenced
At least back then I had known my release date
Whatever happens, NEVER give up for your seed’s sake!
Oooh! For pete’s sakes you don’t know the half of it
Truth be told, the labyrinth of networks of words abbreviated is like…
the roles of a CEO, CFO, OM, Md, DA, ACC, IJ, inter-related
I.I.R.A.I.R.A, hey! Remember that.
Illegal Immigration Reform and Immigrant Responsibility Act…
Whewww! How much more to bear?
Motivated by the nuances of positive probable outcomes
“Sign up to fight!”
“Just Sign Out”…
“99 percent deportation rate”, she said.
“In the end at least you’ll be free.”
I screamed, “That’s Not FREEDOM, more like DEATH to me!”
I could hear the tears in her voice across the phone.
I’m about to explode, tilt my head back…
Hold my head down
The river flows to the ground from my lashes
No streaks on my cheeks
Should I turn the other side dear God and receive the lashes,
and allow the U.S to separate me?
“Your citizen child and spouse belongs to US
you belong across the seas”…
A threat to society. How is that possible?
As defined by your U.S.C.A there is no violence in my crime
so, how is that logical?!
“Mandatory detention, you’ll have your time before the IJ.”
To answer to the charge I’ve already pled guilty of, and did my time?…
Some went home, unwind, got a job…
only to be hunted, cuffed up and brought here.
Now you’re sitting, thinking, “What the Fuck?!”
Six months, day of redemption.
My circumstance affords me the opportunity of a relief
As I sit before the IJ, feet shackled, hands cuffed before my belly
Attached to chains around my waist
“Damn, who did I kill?”
Birth to present day is uncovered…
Friends and family take to the stand…
Kleenex napkins are ripped from their packaging,
as the testimonies drown in the downpour.
The positives of my life, the highlight, I had faith.
But, Paul said it best in Ephesians 2 verse 8
Your work means nothing, you are Saved By Grace.
Ordered removed from the U-S of A…
Oh Lord! I have never denied that this had been one of my biggest mistakes
But, I pray,
Be with me as I wait……
For Your Grace through the E.O.I.R B.I.A
The day I walked into the spider’s giant web!
Woven to capture prey
Some ensnared till death,
Released with a new sense of perception
How close to the end I came.
And yet, even after wiping away the remnants from my face
It eerily feels as if
A part of the sticky chains
are still attached to me.
Never again, never again!
I walk these streets alert for the spider’s giant web!
The spider herself need not worry
Arrest is inevitable.
She waits for the next individual to slip into the adhesive bars
Issue the death sentence
Or struggle for release.
And yes, even after wiping away the remnants from my sleeve
A part of the sticky chains
Are still attached to me.
Struggled so long, can’t get it right!
Six years gone and I still can’t shine!
Conversations with God like, “When is my time?”
I’m about to give it up, He says the seventh is mine.
I was kindled in the fire with a hammer to my back
A double-edged ammo: I release and attack
Chariots of fire, this phoenix has arrived
I told the woman in my life “Till the wheels go flat!”
Till the rubbers they bust, I’m drilling it raw
Do it for the love so I’m giving it all
Runaway slave from a chain at the mall
I really can’t quit the economy is wrong
But, I really can’t sit and feel my bliss gets drained
Ashy Larry lips, get the Blistex man
With blistered hands I’m bracing sleep
There’s no rest for the weak!
When chasing dreams.