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Network Aztlan Latino Chicano Comunidades Transnacionales | |||
Noche De Los Muertos
by Phil Goldvarg
I lagrima a tus huesos born in some mass grave y bilando con tu alma half chained into pain, I bring chisme y comida, Pan de Muerto baked in Aztec ovens, bread that resisted attempted conquests and the flesheaters hunger for the gold skin of our ancestors, I mix sangre con mis lagrimas, lay them gently on la tierra de nosotros, watch them sleep deep into the center of anguish y esperanzas that are layered across petrified bones, cantamos todo la noche, ancient rhythms that circle unplanned death and uncover the imprisoned disappeared ones, I engrave familia on cold stone that sits unmoved and tearless con corazon fria, like the ice of a killer's eye, I break mis huesos, pour their brown besos across your grieving voice that echoes in chambered dungeons searching for release, tu Dia de Los Muertos is every day and flows into suenos de la noche, I lay drunk and cold on your deceiving blanket, mascara verde, rainbow illusion, your breath is a mariposa en las sombras de mis ojos, wings that vibrate strange answers to mis preguntas, I bring congas to sing mis palabras y conchas to sound an old language that ancestors have gifted to us, I become danzante, feathered Quetzalcoatl, dawn dancer, symbol of redemption rising from the flames of hope, I burn my skin upon tu sangre seca, watch them embrace con sonrisas that move past la noche and kiss the sun, I lagrima tus huesos, mis huesos, los ninos who lay among disconnected dreams in some unmarked grave, the tortured screams de mi gente buried in cement walls of unknown prisons, I am el rio de recuerdos who washes away pain's memory, tu eres mi otro yo, you are me, I am you, aqui en la Noche de Los Muertos.
Phil Goldvarg Hgold42734@aol.com | ||