an ode to the Aztecs

 

The skies cry alongside us

for our fallen brethren,

for the abuse of our land,

for the suppression of our people.

 

We stand on soil stained with blood and tears

With history embedded into the roots of the looming trees

And the follicles of our dark hair.

 

Skeletons buried underneath our sacred buildings

Where our language is whispered because it had died alongside of us

Where our naivety led to our massacre

 

We looked to the Gods-

To Teotl,

To the same ones who turned away from us,

when the white devils approached us

 

Our minds were plagued with the ideals of foreigners

The millions of us that were present

Feared for the future

The unknown future

 

Our souls trapped in a never ending cycle

of our diminishing culture

and violence

 

We yearn for the compassion-

The same kind we gave to the Gods during sacrifice

The same kind we exerted as we tended to the gifts from the universe

 

The plants extend their leaves in comfort

As we begin to fall

Slowly and ever so slightly,

They soften the decline

 

The Eagle screeches our name

He soars into the blue sky with pride and sadness

We dance to the rhythm of our broken heartbeats

And sing to our sorrows

 

The screams of the dead turn into cheers

As the spirits of our warriors return from the dead

We cry out in gratitude to Quetzalcoatl

 

The mixture of pride and glory

Running through our veins

Our legacy as prominent as our Jaguars in battle

 

The Earth holds us as History obliterates and dehumanizes us

The Heavens weep as the Europeans reap our possessions

 

We aspire for peace and glory

For compassion and love

From the Gods and our beloved Nature

 

But until then,

 

We grieve with the rain for our doom