A Woman Dreams

A woman dreams
of crossing the border,
of her husband’s calloused hands,
of lying in an American hospital bed
as the scalpel cuts her open,
of their baby girl in the NICU.
She dreams of collecting
the broken pottery fragments
of her English,
of a country with a ghostly grin,
of donating her blood
to an enterprising, ravenous spirit.
A woman dreams
and her dreams are full
of sleep.

A woman dreams
of cherimoyas and calla lilies
illuminating the darkness,
of men harvesting medjool dates,
citrus fruits, and delight,
of her children
learning all the things she couldn’t.
She dreams of her daughter
swinging under a maple tree
and her son cradled by green hills,
of rosebuds bursting with possibility,
of redemption lifting her wings.
A woman dreams
and her dreams are full
of hope.

A woman dreams
of currents carrying them away,
of accusations of theft,
of lost farmworkers and empty fields,
of an immigration officer
pushing her to the floor.
She dreams of death, wandering
the desert, wearing a bull's skull,
of a nation incandescent at the sight
of their stubborn, dancing bodies,
of hibiscus flowers
lasting longer than freedom.
A woman dreams
and her dreams are full
of fear.

---

This poem was featured in Beyond the Page’s Human Rights Day Poetry Collection.