my feet are touching the ground

     i’m running as fast as i can

               i’m starting to get tired

      i’ll just slow a little

     lo siento Papá, te amo 

i come to a stop.

 ~~~

running away is beginning to be a great idea

you, estadounidenses, are destroying my country.

why rest tus armas in the hands of Los Hombres?

i’m only 17 years old, my life slowly, casually dying because of you.

i’m asking Mamá where I’m going manaña

she’s telling me I’m going to la tierra where 80% of weapons that are in Mexico come from

i’m not going to the land of the free.

i’m going to be heading to my death.

i was watching TV when Los Hombres were walking in

i didn’t understand

until my standing Papá was now laying in the center of our floor in his own sangre. 

i am experiencing a sort of pain that is making me leave mi casa.

Estarás corriendo ahora, mi hija. Traigas tu hermano. ¡AHORA¡

so now I’m running with my baby brother on my back.

i need to reach Los Estados Unidos before they come galloping after me. 

~~~

Los Hombres are galloping behind me

i’m not going to make it, lo siento Mamá

i’m not 

              touching 

                                la

                                       tierra…

 am 

       i 

         flying 

                   or 

                         fleeing

mi hermano, ¿estará a salvo?