Immigrants

These poems try to tell of an experience through two different perspectives. I have been blessed to work closely with my parents in this journey of Evermore. They have sacrificed much that will never be seen by others, so much of their time, tears, and love have been poured into the space. In the past, their generosity and self sacrifice have left me with feelings of immense guilt. Now, I am working towards shifting those feelings of guilt to feelings of gratitude. Thank you to my mommy and daddy for believing in the vision of Evermore and caring so much about the community to help me try and bring it to life. Thank you to my Popo and Gung Gung, my Mama and Yeh Yeh for all they gave so that others could have.

To be an Immigrant Parent

It Is carrying with you 

The sorrow of the goodbyes

You were forced to say.

Or perhaps the goodbyes

You never had a chance to say.

It is learning early on, 

That life doesn’t take into account

Whether you feel ready,

Or not. 

Ready to leave, 

Ready to grieve,

Ready to run. 

Ready or not, 

Here life comes. 

And yet, 

While the past buries itself inside you, 

The future tries to haunt you. 

Possibility comes tainted with negativity.

Your beloved children, 

What will they face?

You hope desperately

When life comes,

They will be more ready

Then you were. 

So you push them hard, 

And sometimes,

You push them away, 

Before life has a chance to, 

Because perhaps at least then, 

You prepared them. 

To be an Immigrant’s Child

What is the weight we carry?

The weight we carry

Is different.

It is its own heavy

Its own hard

Its own story. 

It is the story of our parents

And their parents’ past, present, 

And future hopes, 

All intertwining into 

Our now, and our later. 

It is everything they ever feared

And all they ever dreamed

Layered in between–

Our existence, 

Our own searching

Our own mistakes

Our own wonders

Of what life could be. 

It’s complicated, mysterious, and 

B e a u t i f u l. 

It is one of the greatest burdens we will carry, 

That is until, 

It becomes the greatest gift we redeem. 

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3 Generations 3 Poems

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A Paradox for Peace