whale bus

I climb the steps of our old bus and push the metal frame of the cracked folding door.

Have you ever thought a bus is shaped like a whale?

When I'm inside by myself, I think about being inside the belly of a whale.

It's dark.

I see shapes and shadows of our knapsacks, all our belongings in the world.

It's quiet.

I hear echoes of the world around me, small pieces of quiet sounds of the life and work of migrant workers on this Johns Island farm.

It's peaceful.

I feel the words my abuelo taught me to say when it's dark and I'm alone -

I am salt.

I am light.

I am made from the dirt.

I sit down on the ground in the belly of my whale.

A feeling comes down upon me as the night comes all around me now.

Gently with light.

I ask the question my abuelo taught me to ask, the question of the people.

Why am I here?

I hear a still, small voice from deep inside the whale.

"To be you, Little Salt."