From: Cultural Weekly

NOTE: Rosie Flores is this week’s feature on “Tomorrow’s Voices Today”, a series curated by poet and educator Mike Sonksen.


It all started when my granny crossed over
To be in the U.S to celebrate the Passover
And one day she’d be the next crossover
So, watch out for the low riders jumpin’ over her corners
Life was hard according to her memory
Spending anniversaries and birthdays at the cemetery
Chicanos tried to keep the culture alive
Because of the scary “vatos en la calle killing their own kind”

We speak accents untouched by time
We tell stories of memories through the years with worries to die
Fearing for the future was a pain of the past,
The past led to their life’s future and some never seemed to last
Roses are red and we are brown
One thing about la raza is that we never back down, but one thing’s for sure
There is no us without trust and in God we do trust,
But trust we didn’t cross the border the border crossed us
It all started when they began killing our brothers and sisters out there in the street
Never caring to look back at the blood stains they left out on our concrete
Passing by people, exchanging smiles, they looked like the enemy so they still got spit on their feet

Read Rest of Poem Here


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