Cherry Blossoms

House of Heart

Among the huddled bodies I gag at the odor  of the unwashed. The cargo deck is filled with small bodies.  I try to hold on to my little  sister as we are tossed about over the high swells. Her baby scent singles her out in the masses.   Yesterday we were making our way  from school  along the dirt path to our  house of walls, windows, and dirt floors.    We covered our eyes from the burning sun and rejected the slanted eyes of the men in the van who rode alongside us. Scattering our books along the dirt road we were bound and blindfolded with the others.  Later in the night  we are miles off the coast of Venezuela,  surrounded by indigo seas,  we can hear the voice of the boatman, harsh and hurried, his slits of eyes watch  for followers.  We are fed La Rochas to  transform our terror into…

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