“These are immigrant times And the lines are long, The signs for jobs few, The songs sadder, the air meaner. Everyone is hungry. Everyone is willing. Jobs are not jobs but lives lived Hard at the work of being human. These are immigrant times, And the lines are long again.” HumansJobsPoetryHumanityPoemHungerImmigrantsWillingnessBeing HumanMigrants Book:Not Go Away Is My Name Source: Not Go Away Is My Name
“At funerals, things are different. Everything is there—shrimp and red sauce both, Lemons, too, all these things being very thoughtful, even the big, blue cloth napkins. Fancy tongue sandwiches and family-recipe cilantro salsas and olives and pecans, And everybody there is personally concerned that you should have it all, Even though you are just a visitor. Eat up, son, they say. They say it repeatedly. It is curious how you seem to be everybody’s son on these occasions. They don’t want you to just eat a little, either--Look at that ham. Have some more, they say. There’s plenty. And they mean it. That’s what’s left to do at a funeral—make sure people get their fill. There’s nothing else left, once all the food is there and the people have arrived. That’s the business of it all. Anything else comes later. Missing a person, That takes a while. It’s not something you have to worry about now. Nobody else is hungry, so I come prepared. It never fails. People can be counted on At times like these. I tell you, it always turns out to be my lucky day.” DeathGriefFoodEatingHungerFuneralsWakes Book:Not Go Away Is My Name Source: Not Go Away Is My Name