"Mi Abuela (Bolita)"
On the 22nd of July, 2006 I had the honor of meeting and recording w/ many gifted youth poets from the El Paso area (Stephanie, Sara, Hazel, Veronica, Jimmy, Samantha, Andy, Danny) in attendance with Emmy Perez, Peter Viola, Nancy Green and Eddie Acosta. All of the poems read and recorded were incredible and there was one in particular that really hit close to home. "Hope" by Sara Montes aka La Pocha, three months after, has been playing back in my mind whenever I think of my Abuela. I want to share her words with you and send a thank you to all the poets and teachers in attendance that day. I left El Paso heavily inspired in thought by your poems and discussion. Much respect and appreciation.
Hope
by Sara Montes aka La Pocha
(to my Grandparents Manuel Medina and Petra Medina)
The sadness in your eyes
Reflects the hope that they destroyed
The hope that they destroyed was
Because you were different.
You were known to them as a “dirty Mexican.”
You came here hoping
For the freedom,
The “American Dream.”
Instead you got the hardest work
With endless hours,
You got the work
That no one would do
Followed by discrimination.
There followed no respect.
You were called “Garbage”
Instead of the “Future”
That was the part that
Broke you down and made you cry.
You weren’t used to this,
In your land you were respected by others.
You wondered why you were here,
Where you thought would be
The second promised land,
But instead you got “Hades.”
You waited endless years
To hear this,
THANK YOU
Because there is a future,
Your hard work did pay off,
Your dream did come true,
Three generations later, in me.
I am the “American Dream”
You were waiting for.
(to my Grandparents Manuel Medina and Petra Medina)
The sadness in your eyes
Reflects the hope that they destroyed
The hope that they destroyed was
Because you were different.
You were known to them as a “dirty Mexican.”
You came here hoping
For the freedom,
The “American Dream.”
Instead you got the hardest work
With endless hours,
You got the work
That no one would do
Followed by discrimination.
There followed no respect.
You were called “Garbage”
Instead of the “Future”
That was the part that
Broke you down and made you cry.
You weren’t used to this,
In your land you were respected by others.
You wondered why you were here,
Where you thought would be
The second promised land,
But instead you got “Hades.”
You waited endless years
To hear this,
THANK YOU
Because there is a future,
Your hard work did pay off,
Your dream did come true,
Three generations later, in me.
I am the “American Dream”
You were waiting for.
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