Miguel was a precocious
six-year-old. And Maria,
his mother, swore the
Sun’s shine started in
his green eyes. ‘Ojos Verde,’
she lovingly called him.
Blessed with perfect pitch,
Miguel’s music aptitude
was off the charts! He could pick
Melodies out on the tiny, beat up
guitar, his Grandpa rescued from
Rich folks’ trash and put in Miguel’s
small hands the moment he walked.
And the sky was the limit—before
Bad Hombres with
Badges kidnapped him…
Floods of florescent light, 24/7
and arbitrary darkness behind
blacked out windows…remind
Miguel that his world is flipped
Upside down like a car skidding out of
Control somewhere in Oregon or New York.
He misses his Mommy; He rocks and chants
staccato licks, “Ma-ma, ma-ma, ma-ma…”
The sharp needle pierces his tender
Brown flesh. He screams, “Ma-ma, Ma-ma!”
Sunshine drains from emerald eyes into slo-
mo replays like red flags thrown through the
Rest of his life…
After 54 days Miguel’s reunited with his Mommy.
She searches scabies and lice for emerald sunshine,
Finding busted windows where a tortured soul and
Nightmares reside profitably: Childcare provided by
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