If I Had Nine Lives: An Adaptation (A Tribute for Immigrant Mothers)
If I had 9 lives, I'd spend the first one drowning, swallowed by the river that knows my name, breathing in the stories water carries of those who did not make it across. Maybe only after I become unconscious, I'd find peace.
With 8 lives, I would spend a night in that moving truck, my breath limited, my child pressed to my chest as I prayed for dawn, the rumble of the engine a lullaby of fear, the darkness punctuated by the headlights of passing cars, each one a potential threat.
With 7 lives, I would hide from border patrol, my heart pounding in my ears, each rustle of leaves a potential threat, the weight of my child heavy in my arms, their soft breaths a stark contrast to the harsh reality of our situation, the distant wail of a siren a chilling reminder of the consequences.
With 6 lives, I would work in that sweltering factory, my hands blistered and raw. With the fear of not being able to come home, that I too would become another meaningless name on a cross.
With 5 lives, I would be separated from my child at the border, my arms aching to hold them, my heart breaking with each passing moment, their cries echoing in my ears, the cold, sterile walls closing in on me, the weight of uncertainty crushing my spirit.
With 4 lives, I would wander lost in the desert, my throat parched, my body weary, the sun beating down mercilessly, mirages shimmering on the horizon, each step a struggle, the image of my child fueling my determination, the whispers of despair tempting me to give up.
With 3 lives, I would be detained in a cold, sterile cell, my dreams of a better life fading with each passing day, the metallic clang of the cell door a constant reminder of my confinement, the faces of my fellow detainees etched with hardship, the hope for freedom flickering like a dying ember.
With 2 lives, I would be deported back to my homeland, my spirit crushed, my hopes shattered, my future uncertain, the familiar sights now tainted with the bitterness of failure, the weight of my unfulfilled dreams a heavy burden, the fear of starting over as a constant companion.
With 1 life, I would try again, driven by the unwavering love for my child, the desperate desire for a better future, the resilience of the human spirit, the lessons learned from past failures fueling my resolve, the hope for a brighter tomorrow, a beacon in the darkness.
