public sculpture in buenos aires / photoart: ralph murre
De Colores
by Angie Trudell Vasquez
Language and borders,
skin color and barriers,
love knows no lines.
Boundaries are drawn
on the shifting sands of time,
war spoils to the victors,
heartache for the people
living there.
The land remains
but the people come and go
different groups fight on foreign
lands,
plow the fields, plant the crops,
clear trees for new homes.
This is one blue planet
circling around the sun.
One sun shines down on us all
makes everything grow,
crops flow with the pulse
of a million hands
who put fingertips to soil,
plant seeds, water them
with sweat from their brow,
and feed the world
with their exhale.
There are millions of bent heads
at schools, in office cubicles,
grocery stores and factories
across this vast continent.
People marching for change
seen just over the horizon,
de
colores of the sky,
that signify a shift
is about to come for you and I,
and for all living in the shadows.
The time is ripe for us to take our
place
at the table and say we’re here,
we have always been here,
and we are not going anywhere.
This is our home.
Change is the only constant,
the ebb and flow of tongues,
cultures, bloodlines, loves.
I believe some day
we will sing about
how it used to be
how we feared
those we loved most
would be taken away from us
walking down the street, driving.
Today we are closer,
but we’re not there yet.
We can see justice
flickering in the distance,
and what has been given
can’t be taken away so easy.
The door is open and it is time
to walk through the day of light,
to stand in the sunshine,
say, I am here, and
I want to contribute.
I believe.
I believe.
I believe.
~
first published by Woodland Pattern
