El Inmigrante
why don’t you take a picture, it might last longer …
mi abuelo came up here every summer
to break his back for your forbidden fruit
that’s right, he could lift a basket of tomatoes
over his head with one hand
the muscles in his shoulders were so massive
that mi abuela had to shampoo his hair for him
he’s dead now, got killed defending a friend in the field
it’s a war here brothers and sisters
there are no civilians, only soldiers
only bodies, one by one passing away
among accusation that we have our eye on a bigger prize
or that we enjoy coming up being treated like parasites
by those who suffer much like us
you know, we can make our own bread
raise our own corn
and we can smile a big smile to everyone we meet
how has this field of fruit become a field of battle
when did the protectors become the oppressors
we are not the enemy
we do not offend, or commission work to foreign slavers
we neither evict nor perpetrate homelessness
so put that flashlight down, señor
the only thing illegal here is your attitude
and your activity toward your fellow human beings
be careful where you point that weapon
lest the target that you aim for
be your own reflection