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Poem by Mar Oestes Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to meet an ICE agent. Not to be arrested or detained by one, but simply to meet one. If I sat next to a man on a plane or found myself waiting in a long line behind a woman at the bank and didn't know they were ICE agents, would I still be afraid? Would our differences still be the first thing I see? Would I see myself, an immigrant worried for her safety and the well-being of the thousands of people that currently

Sitting on the other side of my mid-twenties, I think back to everything that has transpired over the past couple of years. I moved away from the only place I can ever remember calling home, lost parts of myself I thought I couldn't live without, and found a strength within I didn't know was there. I've made so many mistakes I could write a whole book about them, and there would probably be a sequel. I've learned. Learned a little about sitting still, learned a lot about movi

Yes to slow country, out in the open air. Yes to old comfort books and movies, the kind that make you laugh and cry and then laugh again. Yes to dancing, lots of it; in the kitchen, in the garden, wherever the music moves us. Yes to staying crazy. Yes to loyal friends, friends who recognize the sound of my laughter in a room full of people. Yes to the ocean, always yes to the ocean. Yes to a garden full of roses and gardenias with a creaky wooden swing. Yes to a big porch wit

An autobiographical essay that touches on shame, immigration, and the all too familiar pain of not belonging.