The boy ran until his legs collapsed and drug himself on his belly
into the scrubland. He kept breathing low, like mami taught him
when she held him close on long evenings atop a railcar.
There was still yelling in the distance where the light was strong.
He lay his forehead on folded arms. Dust clouding his face with each breath. He looked
to the left and saw a single shoe for a child smaller than his five years.
Above him, on the spikey leaves of a small canotia,
shredded fabric from a shirt for someone very large.
It waved slowly with the air.
The yelling in the distance calmed to a voiceless hum
and then into silence.
All light was gone but for the stars
He peered into the darkness
and whispered “Mami, aqui.”
After a moment he used his elbows to prop up his
thin arms and spoke louder. The whole night he lay there hidden in the starlit scrubland,
listening carefully to the wind for an answer.
Aja reads "Borders":
Subscribe to Channel 52 for first view of new videos.
Aja confesses: "It is my firm belief that all Americans should be concerned with the harsh conditions people endure traveling north into the U.S. from South America. Thousands of people are known to have died trying to cross Arizona deserts in the past two decades and it is estimated that 24% of those now crossing the Southern border into America are under the age of 14."