My Arrival to the U.S.A.
We arrived at the hielera—the refrigerator
On September 3rdMy birthday.
It was the worst birthday of my life.
Shut up.
Confined.
Shaking in cold.
Sleeping on the floor.
Hungry.
My son asked to leave there.
It was so very cold.
My son said:
‘It would have been better
if we had never left
Grandmother’s house.’
All I could do was
hug my pretty son
And tell him
‘I love you.’
Mother September 9, 2015
My Journey
Refugee Art 
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