The Death of a Migrant Worker Quotes

“The Gravedigger

I should have counted. There is a tally.
I remember the first, the second,
a little about the third -

before these became just holes in the ground. Before
it was just another day of disturbing dirt and waiting
for quitting time. You think sometimes

of the soul you bury,
of the suppers they had and the suppers they'll miss.

you think sometimes.

I should have kept count.”
― Gil Arzola, The Death of a Migrant Worker

“A Note to Thomas Wolfe

It turns out that you can go home again.
And once home there will be
things that will poke at your memory.
Doors will open ...
harder than you remember.

But the floors will have forgotten you and
the walls painted over a dozen times, will speak
in unfamiliar colors.

Trees where there were none, grown to ten times a man
will nod politely. There's something familiar about the way you walk, they'll whisper to each other. But they've seen too much and
lived through storms.
It's hard for them to remember details.
And when you stop to listen as if the breeze that carries their words
were some ghost calling, it's something that they've seen before.

I tried to write it down once. But it didn't want to be a poem.
You can go home again, Mr. Wolfe.
But no one will be waiting.”
― Gil Arzola, The Death of a Migrant Worker

“Childhood Homes

Where the bushes are now a house once was.
See there - where branches are twisted together like skinny
arms hugging air? You'd think it was one thing instead of two
until you look closer and follow to its roots.
Right there - where the branches
are highest there was a window and
a boy looking out.

My life is passing. The snow melts.
In another day it will become water and disappear
into the ground.
Over there - across the field you can count
one, two, maybe three trees I used to climb.
Walk there -
And you can ask each blade of grass on the way
to tell you my name.”
― Gil Arzola, The Death of a Migrant Worker

“We were migrants and Mexicans and all that
we carried in our pockets were dreams.”
― Gil Arzola, The Death of a Migrant Worker