Ode to My Feet
"I wrote these poems as a way to capture the cost of pursuing a doctorate while being undocumented in the United States."
This week, we are excited to share the first in a series of poems from Norma Ramirez. Introducing this series, Norma writes:
I wrote these poems as a way to capture the cost of pursuing a doctorate while being undocumented in the United States. Once I had graduated, I realized that I need to reflect and process the past 7 years to allow space to heal. In the process, I also got licensed and that also brought up more feelings and dynamics. So, the series is a bit developmental, capturing pieces of the past, the present, and wonderings of the future.
About “Ode to My Feet,” Norma writes:
Ode to My Feet is the first poem in this series where I attempt to capture the cost of pursuing a PhD in clinical psychology as an undocumented student in the United States. I recalled what I felt in that moment when I was giving it my all to get to grad school: The excitement, uncertainty, and then realizing how dangerous my experience of grad school had been. The last two stanzas were written about a year and a half later when I was in the process of getting licensed as a psychologist.
“Ode to My Feet”
Six years ago
I made and took decisions
Based on the belief of the Impossible
Being possible
That God was behind all of this
My heart was all in
My brain did not understand but believed
My soul yearned for something better
And so, I asked my feet to take me there
Not knowing what I was asking of every part of me
To my feet
Forgive me for not knowing
That I was asking you to walk into
Such unsafe spaces
On the first day that we arrived in Pasadena
You quickly realized that we no longer had a path
We did not have a road, bridge, or steppingstones
We did not even have the hope of “someone has done this before”
I don’t know if we ever walked “on” anything
But, somehow,
You made it every day
Into impossible spaces
Into countless meetings
Classrooms
Seminars
Practicum Placements
The Supreme Court
Living Spaces
Churches
Speaking engagements
Community Events
Gatherings
Where we were not
Actually w a n t e d
You held me up
You were steady
You didn’t give in
You didn’t break
I see now
That you were scared
Terrified
You wanted to leave this place
With all its entrappings
From smiling faces and open hands
I have this pull to promise you
That I won’t ever ask that of you again
I want to believe that now that I will be a licensed psychologist
I’ll have more safety and a less treacherous path
But I’m still undocumented
And despite all the hope I have for what my future could look like
The reality is that the only certainty is that
We will have to keep on fighting
So, the promise I can make is this:
I promise to not lose sight of you
I promise to make space for rest and care
I promise to care for you like you care for me
Propina
We will be sharing more of Norma’s poems in the near future. In the meantime, please check out the licensed mental health services that Norma offers here.
We’ll see you next week.