1970, 1980, 2020

el calor de la tarde raja la piel
el polvo ventoso seca la garganta
la fresa, el ajo encorva la espalda
las manos punzan hinchadas de ampollas
sangran a presionar chis chas de una tijera oxidada

No te confundas
aqui no se vive
se viene a morir

somos huerfanos
no tenemos madre
no tenemos patria
ni siquiera nombre
en veces ni humanos
somos la plaga en este país

aquí se trabaja
hambriento,
sediento, fatigado
reumático, aquí
el vientre revienta
y a nadie le importa

aquí en estos files
no hay sueños
no hay esperanzas
no hay ilusiones
aqui se viene a morir

1980

no entiendo mucho, me dicen
i'm just a kid,
no sabes nada, they tell me

but all i know is that those green vans
are my nightmares day and night

those green uniforms me congelan
the ones with brown faces
their disgust is evident
it stings como aguates de nopal,
nos traicionan with our color
they threaten us with our tongue

in those moments
we are cockroaches,
scurrying sin rumbo alguno,
our brown skin becomes one with the earth

under these beds
that ought to hold our dreams
we tremble, remembering la cruzada
el río, the desert, los montes
we pray incessantly, a la virgencita,
that we don’t die forgotten
that we become invisible to those black boots
ready to betray our hiding

behind these bathroom curtains
we fear our breathing
flashback to those frozen mornings
where la pisca, el desbrote, las estacas await us
to feed those who trod upon us

on our knees in front of those green vans
our hopes crumble
pushed into those vans
failure punches us merciless

i look around
my people staring intently at the earth
we avoid each others eyes
the shae crushes our soul,
la verguenza drowns our existence,
our fists scream our burning rage
we are nothing, no somos nadie
hot tears,
burn my cheeks,
i’m only a kid,
and they still tell me,
no sabes nada

2020

i’m the child who has no value in your eyes
the one that is caged, ripped from my mother’s arm

i’m the child who has been gassed in your borders,
gagged into spewing blood in this land you call home

i’m the child who cries for a soothing touch,
who has to crawl back into a fetus state
to find comfort in this uninhabitable hole

i’m the child who lies in your frozen prison floors
covered with aluminium blankets ,
who is mocked, scolded and beaten to have no hope

i’m the child who speaks no language,
yet has to plea in court for the right of asylum

i’m the child who is raped in front of you ,
left to despair in an unknown detention center

i’m the child who no one mourns
when the angels of death come too early
to chill its fragile body

i’m the child who comes to you
not your neighbor, engulfed in fears and hatred

You know of me
but still stay quiet
oh America, the city upon a hill
what horrors you hide in your backyard

II

Desterrada
Enterrada en vida
En una tierra de odio
Donde se respira humillación
Donde se palpa desprecio

donde tu color barro
te señala por las calles
donde tu lengua
te declara criminal
no importa si hablas
ingles, español, spanglish
tu acento te define como el otro
el que se teme, el que no pertenece

Vivimos en una neurosis
de púas internas en este país
criados a soñar
pero maldecidos a penar
en tierra propia
donde hemos olvidado
que nuestros abuelos
por millares fertilizaron
con cuerpo y espíritu estas
praderas, montañas y desiertos

vivimos desgarrados
como esos
sones sangrientos

donde encerrarse, esconderse
ser invisible no es suficiente

Ay de mi
Llorona,
No hay consuelo, llorona