When the Visa Stamp Fades

When the visa stamp fades,
The reason stays.

Four a.m., no one in line,
Radio low beside the till.
Your message holds our sleeping children;
I turn the brightness down and smile.
Little American vowels
Wrapped around their Shona names.
The photo in my old blue passport
Knows the man before this place.

I told myself the day I left,
"Give them more than I was given."
I didn't know how much I'd miss
While earning us a living.

When the visa stamp fades, the reason stays.
For our sons, for our daughters, for ordinary days.
Carry it forward, let them know their names.
When the visa stamp fades, the love remains.

Carry it forward. (For the love.)
Carry it forward. (For the love.)

Four-fifteen, a man buys coffee:
"Long night, brother?" I say, "Long."
My mother's language on the playlist;
The register joins in with its hum.
I've saved a picture of her drawing:
Four stick people, one big sun.
There's an empty chair beside her,
And a note: "This one is Dad's."

When the visa stamp fades, the reason stays.
For our sons, for our daughters, for ordinary days.
Carry it forward, let them know their names.
When the visa stamp fades, the love remains.

They don't count the shifts I covered.
They count when I am at the game.
I saved that drawing in my passport,
Right beside the fading page.

When the visa stamp fades, the reason stays.
For our sons, for our daughters, for ordinary days.
Carry it forward—and come home while they're awake.
When the visa stamp fades, the love remains.

Shift is over.
They saved my chair.