"This Week": A Poem

THIS WEEK      mothers became widows       children now orphans

                        Viudas             Huérfanos       Do you now see

 

La Chamba

Pick their food, raise their kids, clean their homes, fix their roofs

There are two signs, Martinez says: one says “come,” the other “go home”!

 

Many were hungry                 afraid to work            

La fábrica, Hilton, El Super, Vallarta--too dangerous to drive

                        No food to eat    Orange King

 

This week        CANCELLED     Graduation, Quince, Primera Comunión

                        Churches raided Orange King

 

Car lines at kinder       nowhere now safe      White you may pass  

Brown?  On your ass!

 

Many sick, too             nowhere to go

                        Hospitals?  On your ass!

 

Get in line, you say?

                        We tried that, too

                        With papers still, stolen, outside the door

                        Even courts, not safe no more

 

Senator           Tackled            for all to see

                        What hope is there for you and me

 

Where are you Church, Orange Man your king?

500 years, you kiss the ring

 

Blasphemy! Blasphemy! Manifest Destiny, MAGA all the same

            It’s always us               you try to blame

 

Prophets rise               you kill them too         always have                 today will still

 

Sin embargo

 

I am the Brown Church

            No King but Christ

Yo sé que el Reino de Díos trae liberación

Que el Espiritu nos libera       

Though the colonizers have changed, the cries of Las Casas still ring strong in my ears

I am a Dreamer; indocumentado; sin papeles

No human being is illegal.  Jesús es mi refugio.   I am a child of God.

I also am among the 12

God calls me mija/mijo

 

I AM THE BROWN CHURCH