La Malinche

She rises up to the scaffold

As the city crumbles down

Her chest is presented

Put on display, for the whole

World to see, but never interpret

 

A girl with no name,

But a use, "The Interpreter"

They point and call her

But their laughs and scorns 

Are too loud to hear the language

She's trying to speak

 

Then she runs into the forest,

Hoping for a bird to

Hear her song, but the

Net that captures her

Stifles her cries

 

Then, once she auditions

They hear how pretty

Her birdlike voice is

So she lands the role, and 

She becomes their puppet

In the marionette play

 

She tweets and she flies

Their messenger dove

She searches to collect

The olive branches from

The Promised Land

 

So she flies to her

Canaan, where they sacrifice

To the god of the Sun

With their hardened hearts

Flying towards him

 

She searches for the

Olive branch, but

It is nowhere to be found

So she comes back, empty

In her beak, but with a 

Song for her to sing

 

Then she comes back once more,

But forgetting about the

Olive branch, she climbs on

The scaffold and greets them

With her angelic song

 

But they scold her off

The stage, throwing their

Stones and spitting their spit

Then it dawns upon her head

Where the olive branch lies

 

So she comes back with

A branch in her beak,

And just as she begins

To sing, they clamp her

Mouth shut, and they dispose

Of her in the forest

 

As they are taking what

Had been their Promised Land

There she lies, bleeding,

Dying in the forest,

Losing her breathe

 

And she nears the end

Of her life as a parrot

She squawks, sings the song

Of a hummingbird,

And her heart begins to melt

 

With the final chord

Escaping her mouth,

The forest goes silent,

For no song as beautiful

As hers has filled the forest

With such angelic grace

 

Then the Son of God,

Shining like the Sun in

Which they've worshipped

Repairs her broken, torn up

Wings so that she could

Fly

 

And with her softened 

Heart, she flies away

As a saintly dove, and

To the Sun becomes

One with, and the heavens

Get to hear her angelic song

This poem is about: 
Our world

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