Herederas
When I was asked to share some spoken words, I wanted to capture what my communities in solidarity would say
So I thought about how the legacy of this work extends beyond today
--In that organic way…
And the words found me
Because poetry is not a performance. It is the truth of our hearts shared on display.
You see…
We are not an after-thought
We are an exclamation
My standing here
is an affirmation
My ancestors resistance
turned reclamation
Surviving and thriving in spite of Indignation
My rhymes a scathing song of Liberation
Refusing artificial boundaries of trepidation
Chola scholars defying all shortsided expectation
Scientific processes shamefully advancing our damnation
Enter Guerrilla poets
--aligning overdue reconciliation
We've risen beyond waves across space and time
of these chronically misconstrued timelines
Existing phenomenally
Giving Life
como la luna
controlling the tides
Where we come from
is so much more than a well-manicured glass house
politicized beyond the lies
We are
---a people
---of cultura y corazón
Herederas of círculos
---where the hummingbird flies
Reminding us that
---in spite of all pretense
we continue to rise.
Centering ourselves while battling critiques of self-centeredness
when that centering is essential to acknowledging our sacredness.
Carrying where we come from
and who we've always been.
Hearts with Eastside roots
marching while grieving all of our missing
Women
Amplifying stories
Tucked under the cadence of un/be-longing
Here with fists up as we declare a longstanding legacy collectively
affirming the recycled poetry of this:
hocicona eres mas chingona
speak truth to power and resist
revolution is you…
even when you're sitting,
Resting –in the fullness of your bliss.
And today.
Today. We marched.
Marched for our missing.
Marched for our babies. Marched for our grandmothers. Marched beyond the oversimplified mythology of any exclusive binary.
Marched for freedom. Marched for peace. Marched for justice in the streets. Marched for our collective dignity. Marched for youth and caged babies torn from families through deceit.
Marching.
Marching relentlessly
and past the spirit of today.
In the knowledge
that who you carry is who carries you
7 generations forward and 7 generations back
Bypassing artificial wisdom.
As keepers of truth.
Marching.
Because.
Marching.
Marching ruthlessly for the mercy of humanity.
Marching for her and you.
And you. And them.
And her. And they.
And Her. And you.
And #metoo
Ni una mas.
Until they're free.
____________________________________________________
I'm never shy on the 'mic. For this one I wanted to show up in affirmation for the pockets of folks who show up with hearts in hands and screams of frustration knowing we've been taking a stand and we've been having demands.
In that space of humble responsibility for my abuelitas, my babies, my mom, my tias, my comadres, my extended guerrilla chingonas who by any means necessary show up relentlessly day after day doing the damn work that gets muted, erased, taken for granted, shushed, diminished, vilified --in spite of your greatness. I am because… you've been.
C/S