Dear Hate

Dear hate:

I am the antidote to your bigotry and racist rhetoric

I am the one who will fight against the odds

I am resistance and resilience,

I will be your worst nightmare.

 

I will empower future generations;

The ones who will tear down walls of separation

Those walls that divide us between them and us

I will help build bridges that connect us to equal opportunities.

 

In my veins runs the blood of great warriors,

Montezuma, Cuauhtémoc and Nezahualcóyotl will guide me to victory

I am the past, present and future;

I am the conscience of my people.

REMEMBER

Remember me as the one who wanted to change the world;

the who wanted to inspire generations.

Remember me not as the coward who didn’t fight,

but as the warrior who never stopped fighting.

 

As the sun starts setting, so will I.

Don’t let anything deter you from achieving your dreams,

not even you. Remember that you are as powerful

as the sun’s rays are.

 

Even the stronger and most beautiful tree

has lost its leaves and has flourished every season and so will you.

Learn to weave your own web of opportunities.

You are powerful in every sense.

Feels Like Home: Reminiscence of my Childhood

It’s Friday January 22, 10:38 am, and I am heading to Olvera Street, to the Historic Pueblo of Los Ángeles. I have decided to go eat a churro relleno (a filled churro) and spend some time just by myself. I have always loved coming here because it reminds me of my hometown: Sombrerete, Zacatecas.

Placita Olvera has the power to transport me to my childhood when everything was tranquil and where I lived the day-by-day without any worries. Where everything was just running around nonstop, while playing at the jardín and going up and down the kiosk. Of course, at Placita Olvera I cannot run around and go up and down the kiosk, I mean if I wanted to be deviant I would, but I would not… Haha.

Placita Olvera reminds me of when my grandparents would take me and my sisters to the town and we would wait for the camion (bus) after a long day of shopping at el Mercado (the local market) or having walked for so long and el jardín was the resting point for everyone who would go to el pueblo. It was, still is, the meeting point of everyone; where everyone from other Rancherias would catch up and talk about their cattle and or crops, and to some extend share stories and worries about the temporadas para la siembra. But more than anything it reminds me when I though everything would be the same. When I thought my grandparents would never get old or die.

La Placita Olvera reminds me of those times I would see my grandpa laugh while talking to men from other Rancherias and he would just wipe his laughter tears with his hand. It reminds me of the strong man he was and of how brave he was; of how he would forget about his worries and his sickness for just one day. It reminds me when he would get dressed up because my grandma would make me and it was a constant arguing because he hated wearing closed shoes and he preferred wearing his huaraches, but of course, my grandma wouldn’t let him, “porque iba ir de fachoso.”

Going to Sombrerete was those days when he wasn’t be comfortable because his attire didn’t reflected who he was. He wasn’t a conformist but a rebel, he was just himself, un hombre de campo, aferreado a sus ideales y bien terco (a country men, with strict ideals, and really stubborn). But we all loved him, aún que nos regañara. He was like my second dad; someone from whom I learned so many things like: not giving a damn whether people like me or not. It is no wonder why Placita Olvera is very dear to me, it takes me back home: it brings me memorable moments of when I was a child, it makes me not worry, and it is peaceful like el jardín in Sombrerete.

The Cry of a Mother

Your mother cries for your absence

Your departure left a profound emptiness.

In her heart she has an immense sadness,

That cannot be replaced by anyone’s presence.

 

She talks of you as if she’s waiting for your arrival,

Even though you will never open the door to your house.

In her heart and mind your departure was not final;

The memories will always keep you alive.

 

She waits anxiously for you to call her “ama.”

The await prolongs and her eyes fill with tears and not joy

She cries because a piece of her flesh has been taken apart

Resignation will not come home because you were her little boy.

Mother and Son

Me gustaría ser ave

Me gustaría ser ave para volar alto y olvidarme de todo;

Cruzar fronteras y no tener miedo a vivir en las sombras.

No tener miedo al día a día, pero vivir los momentos;

De no sufrir solo volar sin ser detenido por el viento.

 

La vida es cruel pero nadie dijo que no lo seria,

A veces hay barreras que se interponen en nuestros caminos;

Pero hay que saber enfrentarlos como lo hacen las aves;

Esas aves viajeras que vuelan sin detenerse y sin mirar atrás.

 

Que fortuna tienen las aves de no tener que vivir en la oscuridad.

Ellas vuelan alto y libres porque es su bella naturaleza;

Que suerte tienen ellas de poder expandir sus alas y volar.

Envidio su valentía y su garra de enfrentarse al mundo sin pesar alguno.

 

Que si bien vuelan sin saber donde morirán;

Porque su naturaleza dicta que ellas no lo sepan;

Tienen la fortuna de no preocuparse de la vida ni de la muerte,

Porque al fin libres son.

Letter To A Brother That Never Left

I never knew I would have this feeling of pain and sorrow. But I am. It is a feeling I don’t want to feel; it is a feeling that I wouldn’t want anyone to feel. Especially, not those I love very dearly. I wish you hadn’t parted away from us but you did, and it is something that I wasn’t able to avoid. Only you know why you did it, and I will never judge or condemn you for that. There are many questions but not one single answer. They say the ones who leave, leave with only their last sigh and the ones who stay with a broken heart and a million tears to cry. And I only wonder if you left with us in mind? I wonder if you thought of your lovely mother, my mother; of your dear father, my father; of your sisters, my sisters; of your nieces and nephews, my nieces and nephews; of your grandmothers my grandmothers; of your only brother— me.

Only you have the answers to the questions I have. Answers that might not be answered any time soon. You lived a life without boundaries, a life without fear. You weren’t afraid to take risks, you just weren’t afraid of anything. You were the opposite of me. You were fearless and always with an attitude towards life. Truth is, that you are the bravest person I have ever known.

You left this world of suffering for one where no one will judge you for what you do or for who you are. No one looks down at you because you are all the same.You would say that we were like animals: we die and we don’t even know were we really go. It’s like getting a nonstop flight ticket around the world. Only you know what it’s like where you are, and I hope you are living a life of fulfillment. A life that is good for you. They say that the one above only takes those individuals who are greater than the ones down here. And believe it or not, you are greater than all of us.

I am jealous. You have left us in this world of misery. And it is true that…Poor of us who stay because those who leave, go with an immense happiness and fulfillment. Perhaps not because they lived a life of enjoyment: but because they are not suffering in this world of negativity and pessimism.

I know I will never be able to fully express myself because there are not enough words that can describe the way I feel. It is a feeling of emptiness. I cannot describe it because the words cannot come out. I know I will always remember you as the brother I would play with. The one I built houses with, tell stories, eat marshmallows, and just be the brothers that we are and always will be. It is hard to let go when the memories invade my mind and everyday I remember of everything we did together. It is not easy, no one said it would be. It is hard to say that we must move on when we all know that we are missing a wheel to our family. And you are a wheel without replacement. We grew up together like two brothers, two friends because we knew that we only had each other. However, in the way we took different paths and distanced ourselves. But those two paths are not parallel and they will cross once again and we will be together: to be the brothers that we should have always been. As an older brother I always looked after you; now I ask for you to be my little big brother and look after all of us.

When I was on my way home, I looked down and everything looked so small, and I asked myself, “ I wonder if Brayan sees us all like that.” But then I said, “No he doesn’t because he’s with us. He can only see the ones who insulted and humiliated him small and down; he would never look at us down because we are family and family always stays together.” Then as the plane crossed the Mar de Cortez, I saw the immense sea and I said to myself: “that’s how our love for Brayan is: infinite and immense as the blue water that runs through the rivers into the sea.” And those rivers that flow to the sea are the open veins of our mother and father who were left with a broken heart.

I can write forever and I will never find the words to describe how I feel. It is hard, but I have to take some of the courage you had to confront the world and be strong for our parents. No body is eternal in this world and we will see each other sooner or later.

Mar de Cortez

Two Brothers