In his inimitable style, Laredo poet Jesse Herrera told us in verse that as citizens we need to speak up for what we cherish — the river, our only source of drinking water; the environment; wildlife; an uncompromised vista on our southern border.
So much said in so few words.
He recited these poems on the riverbanks at the March 14 “where’s the emergency” press conference.
YOu
Which of your elders landed at Plymoth Rock? Which of your ancestors rowed Washington’s boat across the Potomac? Whom of your grandfathers charged with Lee or rode with Sherman? Or were your grandparent’s grandparents in Mexico? You’re from Mexico? YOu crossed the Rio Grande? Other than your place in line at Best Buy on Black Friday or a parking space at the mall, YOu, who say to deport them, YOu, who say to build the wall, YOu, who are holier, YOu who are whiter, YOu who traded your comal for a toaster, YOu who are a Dreamer’s nightmare, YOu, who wished your last name was Smith or Jones or Trump, YOu, immigration judge, all white jury & ICE executioner, YOu, what have YOu ever had to fight for, YOu, nopales sin espinas? More ketchup o Mas salsa, Mexican-American, Who the hell are YOu?
The Wall
We already have our symbols of the step-children of hate: Wounded Knee, Auschwitz, the Twin Towers, yet we no longer hear the music over the drum of, “Build that Wall!” Yes, build it. I want to see it. I want to touch it, the invisible, visible – the Great Wall of Hate, the great symbol of hate, a burning cross, a concrete, white swastika with veins of barbed wire, the humidity of hate is so thick, it sticks to the minds of the mindless, Our Father, pray for us, for do we know not what we doing to our brothers? Ask the River, “Are their dreams worth less than yours?” Ask the Wall “Is their blood less red than yours?” All I heard was a wall of silence. And, as the Man has said from the beginning, “Love thy neighbor.” We have rivers of tears and oceans of blood. We don’t need another symbol of hate. We need a sign from God. Don’t Build That Wall!
Somewhere Else
Round-up the “bad hombres”, as we separate ourselves from ourselves, splitting hairs, splitting atoms, splitting families, Our Fathers who art in Washington, can’t hear you screaming for the ripping sound as we tear each other apart, the icy hands of ICE, feast like beast on the bones of those who were our brothers, the fast is over, one Nation, under God, indivisible with liberty and justice for all, for all, unless you’re from, but we all came from somewhere else, from somewhere else, we all came from somewhere else.
