CIRS Blog about Rural California
The Journey Home
Sergio wiped his forehead
and spat on the hardened ground.
There was no water for him
to drink and his throat was sore.
His brother had warned him not
to leave his family behind.
“You will be hungry for home
and the dollar is poison.”
He unwrapped stale tortillas
from his bandana. He could
still smell Rosa’s jasmine soap,
her hand soothing his forehead.
The sickness rose from the field.
It burned his eyes, split his tongue.
He heard Rosa’s voice – the warmth
of her breath overcame him.
Sergio sat in the dirt.
He bit his cheek and the blood
ran down his throat. His lips brimmed
blue-red in the cold white sun.
He saw Rosa in the sky,
circling high above him.
“Come home, my sweet love,” she sighed.
“Oh, luminous earth, open wide.”
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