This Serpent Tongue Cannot Be Colonized

To those who say
Our voices must conform
To proper English
And/or Spanish,

I offer you this
Humble poem—

This jaguar roar:

Mezclado,
With love and squalor…

I was born
To a proud
And ignorant
Mother who
Bravely immigrated
From the bucolic
Fields of Guanajuato;

After crossing to El Norte,
She stumbled as she
Landed on
The dry, gringo soil—

She spoke to me
With heavy chains of
Broken English—

But her turquoise heart
Was always full of love;

Her tranquil song
Reverberated in
The belly of
The sun.

...Please,
Cuauhtémoc,
Do not weep...

When I was placed
In ESL classes
In elementary school,

I yearned to join
The American students
In traditional courses—

I wanted to say
The pledge of allegiance
Without a hint of
A Chicano accent—

When that day
Finally arrived,
I was filled with
Yankee pride;

Today, I cherish
The memory
Of my Aubelo’s machete
Swiftly cutting the
Tuna del nopal—

At times,
Subtle sounds
Are more profound
Than the rigid
Perils of language.

...Por favor,
Cuauhtémoc,
No llores...

Tomorrow,
With the coming
Of the Sixth Sun:

I yearn to
Speak the
Silent language
Of sun-burnt peasants—

With a vibrant accent,
Colorful with
The pulse of
Ancient myth:

This serpent tongue—
This pride—
Cannot be colonized.

...Tlatlauhtilia,
Cuauhtemoctzin,
Amo ancoconetzitzintl…