Invisible Mothers

To die living and dragging their own to the abyss is the greatest danger of crossing in search of a dream

 At least eight have gotten out in Arizona. All of them pay a bond between $10,000 and $25,000 thousand dollars that they never had, that were donated; That money came to them through organizations and people who made intense phone shifts and cyber fundraising campaigns. The donors are mostly Americans whose hearts hurt, those who want to cleanse the faults of an administration that separates families and that by donating demonstrate their political positions and face their president. Thus, invisible mothers return to freedom. They are outside, but they will never be free again. They are marked by pain, impotence and gratitude. They are already close to or with their children. Those are the migrant women who a couple of months ago were the headlines in the news and today, with the always devastating passage of time, are for many, statistics. They are there with their tears and remorse, so present and so confusing, with such a brazen love and with a past that exposes them, but, ironically, they remain invisible. Their children see them and, if they are lucky, they recognize them. Some are so changed that it is difficult to rediscover them in their eyes. Sometimes it’s not them, it’s their children. The children have suffered a trauma so severe that they cannot and will not see them in the eyes, to undress their emotions and to relive the memories that hurt them and still do not understand. There are some to whom physical separation cost them irreconcilable emotional separation from their own; they do not forget, they do not forgive, they do not know how to start over or if they want to do it. Nothing will be the same again. With liberation and reunification, the torment has not ended; the roller coaster of faults, wounds and pardons that seem to have no end accelerates. Until when? Who knows! This is the most dangerous of crooked crossing to the United States. This. To die living and drag those you love to the abyss. This is what few recount. They talk about bodies in the desert or the ones washed away by the river, but they do not talk about those who lose their souls in the journey. Their illusions are also dehydrated on the border and families stay in bones; dreams also die on the wall; the desert snatches innocence and forces survival at the expense of everything, including oneself. On the journey, one becomes its own executioner and fear dealer. Those mothers know now. Maybe if they had been told they would not have believed it. The highest price is not to pay a “coyote”, but to lose oneself … and them. But they prefer that than to stay and wait for death in their villages. They know that on any side there are demons and they choose to be embraced by the uncertain, so that the narcos do not kill them, be violated by an accomplice society or be sentenced by poverty. In any place something would have died and they chose to die on this side, maybe here they can get up from the ashes and start again. Maybe