Light and smoke
blossoms from the barrel of a gun
as they lay waste
to the only home I have ever known
and stake their claim on this land
where my ancestors toiled under a smoldering sun,
wrinkles on face,
sweat on back,
callouses on hand.
Stolen plunder
rots in gold and marble jars
while I watch my children collapse
from hunger
and my husband hang himself
on that old tree,
watered by the blood
of generations
gasping for air
under the banner of the unfree.
Tonight, I cry out
to Mother, Father, Aunt, Uncle,
since the voices of my children have dried up
and my husband’s body has returned to the earth,
but I stand, an emaciated shell,
nonetheless standing
with one more scream,
one last sob,
another step,
I shall carry this banner until we all become free.
