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Leaving Colombia

Cristina Valencia

Among fire guns and bombs was born a dream
When the helicopter landed that day
On the field, in awe and terror our eyes
Stared at it screaming, running, crying
And then the stunning, deafening silence
That comes after panic as a dim light

Made its way through the darkness until daylight
Reigned.
On that very moment rose a dream
Inside us.
Protected by walls of silence,
Hidden, unknowingly shared.
Hoping for the day
When our hearts and souls would stop crying
For help because tears no longer flooded our eyes

And our minds, clean with calmness would set our eyes
On landscapes of peaceful stillness where the lightness
Of tranquility replaced the burden of crying
Every minute.
As of me, I nurtured my dream
As it all got worse.
Ivette’s dad was killed one day,
Next: our friends kidnapped.
I bled in silence...

They were after my father... and me.
The silence
After each phone call let our eyes
Say everything.

Father had to run away one day
On an evening with no stars and no light;
We couldn’t see his face for the last time.
My dream?
Was still alive I suppose, even as I cried

Utterly in pain for I was next, and crying
I left too, with no words to be said, in silence,
In search of something greater: my dream,
But when I arrived at the airport my eyes
Shed tears again as I stood alone under the light
Of a small room, put aside, released a few days

Later, my whole baggage broken and torn.
That day
I realized what demons would make me cry
Now, and they still do, but there’s a light
Far away as there always is, that in silence
Brings forth the chance of something greater to my eyes
And the possibility of reaching my dreams.

I’m living my dream, and mother’s cries
Fill her eyes with tears as in silence
Pain one day became illness that’ll turn off her light.


Cristina Valencia is originally from Colombia but came to the United States seven years ago.

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