By Karen Kenyon
He has managed to cross the border to El Norte
through a dark tunnel
across the wide field of flowers,
has paid for his safety with a year of saving pesos.
He will find work, he knows
picking strawberries, tomatoes,
and take home money to his family.
has merged with pure light–
Hope has become a car’s headlights he cannot escape
on this cold night in San Ysidro.
Later, as his body is covered by a blanket
his mother in the Colonia awakens,
throws open her battered screen door,
covers her eyes against the blazing stars
which have come too close
to her house.