Sunday, November 29, 2009

I almost never write poetry...

I was having an argument about this story about Alma Chacon and was musing on the pure absurdity of national borders and who is "legal" and "illegal" within those artificial boundaries and my brain just started getting all poetical, so....thought why not share... (If it's not clear, I was thinking about these things from Alma's and other mestizas and indigenous folks' perspective.)


How can I be
On the land my people come from?

You declare me
As you pave over the bones of my ancestors.

A line drawn
Treaties signed
By people who were visitors to our country.

Now you declare me the visitor
Me the intruder
Me the unwanted guest.

But your economy thrives
on my bent back

And the ones in charge,
they know it.