(For the monarch butterfiles in our lives)
Tell me, mariposa
That what our people say about you is real
Tell me, mariposa
That you are the realization of resistencia
In the natural world
Tell me, mariposa
That your journey
And struggles
Is our own story
Tell me, mariposa
That you are the ancestors among the marigolds
Tell me, mariposa
That our instruments and songs
Give you strength to cross the continent
Tell me, mariposa
That our footsteps shake the colonial strongholds
Over our sacred earth
That every blood and teardrop
Will make the path less painful
For those who follow
Tell me, mariposa
That you carry the names
Of our missing loved ones
Long after we used our last breath calling them
Tell me, mariposa
That we are healing
Because we chose to exist
Tell me, mariposa
That we are forgiven
For our human frailty
Our cruelty, our arrogance
Our every transgression
Tell me, mariposa
That our scars
Will not carry over to the spirit world
Or pass to the next generation
Tell me, mariposa
That our loved ones fulfilled their journey
To the Creator’s arms
Tell me, mariposa
That we are still loved by the spirits
That they hear our prayers
Tell me, mariposa
That our movement continues
That you carry our resistance
Tell me, mariposa
That our danza and our drums
Bring medicine to our people
Tell me, mariposa
That our languages
Are still spoken
Tell me, mariposa
That we no longer carry
The curse of traumas
That we carry blessings
Along with new hope
Tell me, mariposa
The words of your sacred footprints
So that we may find our way to you
Tell me
That we the descendants
Coming back once more
Beyond all storms
Still thrive
Poem: DAVID MENDEZ is a writer from Saint Paul’s West Side working in education and in the community. He draws upon his blue-collar roots and Chicano experience in his works. He hopes to inspire others to take up the pen and share their stories.
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