Atrevida.
Self-declared,
conjurer of words.
Pilgrimage to the mundane, to
find the sacred.
Owner, of
la palabra.
Plumed serpent
Cortez
Mestizo
You capture our continental narrative
like a feather in your palm
and then,
you breathe it back to us,
and it falls into our hair,
tucked, behind our ear.
We may say,
in the new millennium,
“Who cares about the US-Mexican
War and it’s colonial legacy?”
And you say,
“Listen
kids. Connect the dots.
Find the
source,
to your
history of struggle and exile.”
Anglo terrorism.
Mass lynchings of Chicanos
and their families,
for daring
to resist annexation.
Land
stolen
not by the US government,
but by
predatory gabachos,
looking for any excuse
to take the Tejanos land,
rob them of their livelihood.
And they DID!
Disguised today as corporations,
Maquiladoras – new thieves.
Stay south and die, or go north and live (half-dead).
y la mujer…
¿Dónde está la mujer en todo esto?
violada. capturada. abusada. abandonada.
silenciada. traficada, deportada.
La gran mojada. La
mujer.
Indocumentada. Invisible.
This is her home, this thin edge of barbed wire…
Intellectual de la tierra,
in possession of the analysis,
on colonialism and its legacy.
Santa de los atravesados –
the troublesome.
Witness to detentions and deportation,
Nahuatl, el ombligo,
You take
what we take
for granted,
And you give it back to us,
wrapped, in
our own silver and gold.
And we realize,
that all along,
we’ve carried our treasure,
with us.
Gracias, Gloria.
For my father...
