Madre, that Spanish man was no good.
His hands touched what shouldn’t have been touched
His tongue forced down your throat.
He said you were beautiful,
That from all the others, he loved you the most.
Madre, he made promises he couldn’t keep.
A coward, who left for scraps of safety and stability
Hijo de puta, Colón.
Madre, the American brute was no better,
Undressing every stitch, and sewing his own on your skin
His hands were cold when they touched you
You didn’t ask for it, I know you didn’t want to
You tried to speak, but he couldn’t understand you
Selling your body to wandering strangers
Bombing the sole of your archipelago.
Madre, quit being so naïve.
Madre, cumslut, puta!
Who is my father?
Why does he not love us?
Why is your skin darker than mine?
Madre, I hate him
He does not understand me
Arresting my siblings
Letting them wan so he can thrive
We can’t fend for ourselves any longer
Madre, él no entiende nuestra cultura,
Él no entiende nuestro espíritu,
Learn to think for yourself,
Be a good mother, we’ll take care of you.
Recuerda tu orgullo
No olvides tu lenguaje,
Recuerda tus padres
Where you come from,
Hija del Mar y el Sol
El Mar y el Sol.
#SebastianConrad #Poetry #20152016