From the fruit
We grow
Based on the labor that
churned the dirt
***
Our roots were transplanted from a faraway land
We fell to the ground and became seeds in the sand
From the seeds
We took heart
Growing from the love and pain that vines intrinsically impart
***
We grew in the rain
We grew in the wildfires
that leaves a dryness
in the summer dark
***
The fruit said
Be grateful
I gave you life
Then disappeared
Turned to gray dust
***
The fruit had grown rotten
But not before
It stamped us as
awful spring pollen
***
But we were blossoms
and the fruit
was the autumn
ready to take
our leaves
away
***
As it did to our parents
Whose dreams
It betrayed
J.Mar
Author: J.Mar
I was born and raised in Kern County in an unincorporated area of Kern, CA. My parents moved there in the 90s to make a living as farm workers. Watching them barter their bodies, homelands, and family for a chance at the “American Dream” has caused me to reflect. My writing here is largely the unceremonious unpacking and repacking of what was won and lost in this exchange.
My version of the dream consists of completing a PhD in Public Policy. I currently study public finance, public participation, and remittances in Mexico. I am also generally interested in the Latinx public finance experience.
I’ve learned to be cautiously optimistic about the future.
Lastly, I love plants and cleaning is a freeing ritual to me.
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JMar 