Undocumented Dancers

I want to walk the streets again

And watch young people dance the jarocho

Wearing T-shirts that say “Undocumented”

Surrounded by a sea of brown faces

A celebration,

An affirmation of self, of dignity,

Surrounded by history,

As a young man on the simplest wooden platform

Tips his baseball cap with elegant respect

And the rhythm of tapping feet pronounces

That the longer the struggle

The more precious the legacy of pride handed down.

Persecution is ever present

Raids and racism mark our lives

And change is far away.

And yet we live, we march, we dance

Not huddled in the shadows as some would say

But making our way into the bright sunlight

Like a young shoot pushing through the heavy soil.

The author, a poet, co-chairs the Latino/Latina Roundtable of the San Gabriel and Pomona Valley Immigration Committee.

Read more: Opinion poetry by Times readers