HISPANIC HERITAGE MONTH

I wished I was blind like you

not able to see the obvious

I wished I could give back the wings

and not able to fly above your head.

I wished I came back from history with no clues

of Grito de Lares.

I wish I could do what you do

hide the sky with my hands.

It is not easy to be naked

refusing to wear their clothing

but in the long run

more dangerous to be covered

when the storm comes for your child.

You are not the culture you think you are

Nothing but a drop of ink on a blank piece of paper.

Your memory was politicized

not to pay attention to Attica

replaced by foreign roots

giving your mind a mental breakdown

breast-fed labels to redefine your celebration

giving you textbooks concealing

the obvious stagnation.

I’m on a team playing en mi viejo San Juan

you sit there in the bleachers

having your chicken wings and pizza

singing the national anthem.

I’m looking up at the bleachers ready to collapse.