For the Whistleblower, the dear-heart

Dear heart,

you saw something

that wasn’t good,

for people,

the earth,

the children,

the poor,

our health,

our families,

our time,

our investment,

our history,

our future,

and you,

wrote an email,

or a letter,

you made a phone call,

or had a meeting,

you wrote an editorial,

or met with a reporter,

or told the next one up,

or your co-workers,

or the people closest to you.

And a volcano erupted,

that created a change.

The change could have happened

in one week,

in seven weeks,

overnight,

or over a lifetime,

And you,

sat in prison,

were excecuted,

kept working,

were disappeared,

or fired,

or alienated,

shunned,

rejected,

punished,

written-up,

put under investigation,

shamed,

humiliated,

publicly attacked,

publicly or privately stripped of your credibility,

and stripped of any leadership,

influential position or place, at the table. 

You didn’t know,

the moment you decided,

that something had to be done,

and someone had to say something,

and that you would be the one to do it,

that the change would come,

thanks to you,

but you would also pay a price,

for making that change,

happen. 

9/12/14

We Must!

What are we talking about?

What the FUCK are we talking about?

At what point,

do you STOP talking shit,

acknowledge your delusional thinking,

and admit that we’re all fucking immigrants? 

You and your ancestors,

should have/could have/would have/were

been, deported.

And the same tired narrative,

of who gets to be here,

and who doesn’t

is ridiculous. 

The only ones,

who are not immigrants

to this land,

are the indigenous people.

Hostages,

to the eternal

manifest destiny. 

Don’t we ALL know

why immigrants have been

coming here for more than 500 years?

To escape the economic horror of brutual foreign policies and corrupt governments.

To flee crushing hunger.

To flee religious and political persecution.

To flee linguistic and cultural genocide. 

In search of hope,

a chance,

to live. 

The story of migration,

NEVER CHANGES! 

Even the bears are coming down from the Sierras,

into human populated areas,

because they are looking for food and water,

due to the scarcity at higher elevations

because of the California drought. 

You think that if bears are on the move,

humans, who really know what their situation is,

aren’t going to be?

It is instinctual,

and you make it a crime?

I can only conclude,

that anyone who is really talking about

deporting people,

and closing the borders,

and forcing everyone to pass an English test,

or permanently detain families,

in private prisons,

just lacks the most basic

understanding of the human condition.

Human beings

want to survive.

We have a will

and an instinct to live. 

Our movement,

across borders,

and oceans,

and deserts,

and mountain ranges,

is just our instinct,

to save ourselves.

And we’re going to do it,

no matter what you say.

You’ll just have to keep

killing us,

rounding us up,

sending us back,

imprisoning us. 

But

we

will

keep

coming

back. 

We must.

Las Gemelas

Our land.

Our earth.

Our trail.
Our mountain.

Of gravel and dirt

chaparral and oak

sage brush and black crow

vistas and the northeast breeze

city of angels,

as our backdrop.

Narrow paths,

crisscross, through

the wild flowers, the tall grass,

and the Eucalyptus trees,

gather us,

to walk and talk,

air it out (literally),

wind taking us,

our questions, our concerns,

our grief, our celebrations,

our anger and victories,

away,

restoring us,

to peace and release. 

This,

is our Debs Park.

Our ombligo.

To heal, to regenerate,

to recover, to return.

But this week,

a dark veil, descended on our mountain.

The earth, sky, crows, hawks, chaparral,

oaks, Eucalyptus, and creatures,

witnessed

two deaths,

of two girls,

las gemelas. 

In our sacred space,

a crime has been committed.

Life,

stolen!

ON OUR LAND!

Young sisters,

bright smiles,

Latinas,

daughters,

high school students,

members,

of our pueblo.

I am burning sage.

I am lighting candles.

I am pounding the drums.

I am summoning the protective forces.

I am commanding,

the universe,

to re-member,

our land.

Bring back the balance. 

Guide our departed sisters,

to the ocean of eternal life. 

Our park is empty. 

Free land, now heavily patrolled. 

Ancestors,

reconnect us to safety,

to community, to connection,

to pueblo, to progress, to possibility,

to the sacred, to hope…

Queridas hermanas,

as I walk the dirt caminos,

I will remember you.

On your journey,

            travel well.