| I got this poem through the Poetry Foundation email list; a list which I recommend. As the poem was powerfully written and moving and trenchant, here it is. It’s by Blas Manuel De Luna. |
| Bent to the Earth By Blas Manuel De Luna |
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| They had hit Ruben with the high beams, had blinded him so that the van he was driving, full of Mexicans going to pick tomatoes, would have to stop. Ruben spun the van into an irrigation ditch, spun the five-year-old me awake to immigration officers, their batons already out, already looking for the soft spots on the body, to my mother being handcuffed and dragged to a van, to my father trying to show them our green cards. They let us go. But Alvaro was going back. So was his brother Fernando. So was their sister Sonia. Their mother did not escape, and so was going back. Their father was somewhere in the field, and was free. There were no great truths revealed to me then. No wisdom given to me by anyone. I was a child who had seen what a piece of polished wood could do to a face, who had seen his father about to lose the one he loved, who had lost some friends who would never return, who, later that morning, bent to the earth and went to work. |
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