Coming to America
She was only 18 years old
Her heart raced in her chest
like galloping stallions on the finca
they left on the island of emerald-green.
Soon their ship would pass by Lady Liberty;
All decks were packed with passengers
Some would salute proudly,
others knelt thankfully
as if at church,
but she simply held her breath
like when you get ready to
blow-up a balloon at a birthday party.
Her dreams danced in her head
like her favorite dancers Fred Astaire
and Ginger Rodgers.
She envisioned herself looking out
her bay window framed with lace curtains
as her two young girls jumped rope.
She imagined her Cape Cod home
surrounded by a three-foot white picket fence,
daffodils and daisies leaning comfortably against it.
That was her American Dream.
She knew there was hard work ahead
No one said it would be easy
her heart reminded her everyday
that hope makes everything possible.
No one warned them about the
False pride and prejudice of some folks
or about the stereotypes (woven
into the fabric of the what they called
that would always look at her dreams
in the face and call her “SPIC” and stupid.
My mother was a strong woman
She proved them all wrong.
Her last wish was to return home someday
that was her Puerto Rican Dream.
She accomplished both.
She is in Heaven now,
Of this I am sure.
I bet she’s wondering
what is going on here?
what happened to our American Dream.
What happened to the “I CAN” attitude?
Mom, you don’t want to know.