To My Pale-Skinned Cousin, Martinez

Wed, 02/07/2018 - 17:47 -- kchavez

¿Como estás?
How are you, man?
I'm thinking about you again.


You said,
"I could pass for white."
Still, I'm sure you'll fight
With friends,
With kin,
Less or more than
In their skin.


Solo hablo un poco,
Perdo, "Sí, se puede,"
Nuestra lucha procede.


Green card witch hunt.
Tu familia deported.


Choose not to share.
You shouldn't care
If they're aware
Of who you are
By name.
All the same,
Your dream,
Our dream,
It seems
Off your knees,
Raising hands,
Raising signs,
Lifting bans.
Make them hear
Until they understand.


Dream on.
See it through.
Through day,
Through night,
End the fight
When you,
When we,
See it through.


To deny
That your, our leaders lie
In startling statistics,
Let's just be realistic,
Is to disregard the plight,
Of your family,
Your people,
Of those you love who fight
To go forth
For life,
For opportunities,
A matter of miles north.


Is not sustainable.
The dream,
It's ours,
Dream on,
Beam on,
And fight on,
With words,
And walking,
With chanting,
And talking.
Es razón,
No es traición.


When equality
For all
Dismantles their walls.


And speaking of borders,
Who gives the orders,
That seal
The ideal
Of separation?
Not representation,
Not country,
Not God.
"And don't you think it's odd,"
I remember you had said,
Typing a comment on a thread,
"That they don't understand,
Yet give orders,
Sign demands,
Deeming you, man,
A human,
Less than?"


Necessity of freedom
Overcomes concrete
That fractures when it meets
The pounding fists
Of the oppressed,
The denied
Who abide
To a rightful sense of pride.


With you, I'll fight 
Until the laws improve.
Let us fight until removed
Are the barbed metal wires
Heated by the fires,
The damning oaths of liars,
Who think that you, man,
Are less than

This poem is about: 
My family
My community
My country


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