Migrant Displacement

He broke down in prison
Sobbing his dad left when he was little, his mom more recently
He did not have a home to go back to
And perhaps, that’s partly why he was ensnared in the captivity
Of modern-day Gestapo

It cut through my core,
Teared at my flesh
Blood poured
My façade of being an attorney,
Disappeared
I felt deeply the pain of wounds that have never healed.

Migrant displacement is real
I feel it daily
I don’t have a home
To call my own,
I just have to work
On improving the home of those who took mine from me.

But this time it will be different
I told him I’ll build him a home
Brick by brick,
people by people,
I’ll build him a community,
And we did.

Someday, maybe I’ll build myself a home
That isn’t just in the warm embrace of
undocumented people
That isn’t just in the collective pain and trauma
of our community
But a place we can call my own
Without papers, without fear.