DOA
By Julie Sichi
I'm a California transplant to Texas and a mom of five young adult kids. I'm a substitute teacher and a middle school track coach. I love the beach, the river, the pool, kids, dogs, Mexico, animals in general, books, and good wine, not necessarily in that order.
Fragile desert willow blossoms,
Pink and yellow candy sprinkles,
Husks before they hit the sand.
In the Mexican desert
Even the shade is sweltering.
Brown nine year old hands,
Chewed nails as ragged
As the plastic bag they clutch.
In the Mexican desert
Even the brave girls are afraid.
No warning from the desert sky
That scaly creatures start to stir.
Darkness has poor taste in friends.
In the Mexican desert
Even the coyotes fear the night.
Flashlights, badges, guns, boots
Shining, clinking, clomping, barking,
River’s edge aglow with green.
In the Mexican desert
Even the dutiful walk away.
Silent cash, hushed crude commands,
Confused sleepy, yanked upright,
Shoved, a stumble, slimy muck.
In the Mexican desert
Even the river lowers her eyes.
Rumbling engine, steel plank, harsh voices
Sweat clogged senses, no resistance.
Latch clanks, wheels roll, blacktop trembles.
In the Texan desert
Even the rattlesnakes move aside.
Late afternoon July sun, no quarter,
Airless, cargo melts pounds pleads screams
Nine year old hands death grip rosary.
In the Texan desert
Even the police know how to cry.
Interview With The Author
What inspired the creation of your piece?
There was a news story several years ago about the finding of an 18 wheeler abandoned by the human traffickers, the coyotes, in Victoria. When the police investigated, they found the migrants locked inside, all dead from the heat. That story stuck with me and I used my personal experiences in the Texas and Mexican deserts to create a picture of how they got there.How did you start writing?
I have been writing on and off since I was a kid. When I was 14, I wrote a poem about the Texas wildflowers and the local paper published it and sent me a check for 25 dollars which was a lot of money for a teenager in the 70's.Why do you write?
I write to tell stories.If you asked to define your work in three words, what would those words be?
oh the inhumanityIs there anything you would like those who view your piece to know?
I would like people to leave their comfort zones and look inside the truck. Look at the eyes of a refugee child and tell me they are somehow different from the eyes of any other child. I would also like to say that real coyotes are smart, clever, fascinating animals with complex family lives and it is an insult to them to call human traffickers, 'coyotes'.
Editor’s Note
“This piece dived into the very relevant social issue of immigration. The language throughout the poem was so emotional, anyone who reads it can feel like they are in their shoes. It felt so personal, as if the author had gone through or seen this happen herself. I thought this piece had to be published because it brings to light an issue that we should be discussing.”
