Read the poem here: Emigrants.
Another sestina (the first one was Enmontañados). This time I made it a bit more "free verse" by not caring about meter and just trying to make the repeating end-words make sense, as I was primarily trying to transcribe a minor epiphany I had while doing chores: how there are at least six people out there with whom I grew up, back in Tegucigalpa, who are now in first-world countries trying to get by, trying to make things work, trying to carve a place in the world. I thought of all this while looking out at a painfully beautiful Spring day, sure that they too were looking at this beauty and wishing their families were there to see it, or wishing a long lost friend wasn't long lost, or wishing an anxiety or other wasn't there, clouding that beautiful sight. This little poem was an attempt to crystallize that moment, to capture that deep and clear fraternity I felt with these people I haven't seen in a long time before it, like that beautiful spring day, passed.
Read this attempt at remembrance here: Emigrants.