there are these stories across the sun

there are these stories about the way

the feather serpent migrates along the sky

their home is our stars. these dying stars

are the shedding snake skin of their wings


we walk this earth . our mother gathering hope

our fathers hands. inside the american dollar

the wet backs of migrant peoples collapse into

americana . paying taxes. and still invisible.

the janitors, the farmworkers, the food makers,

the spine of this americana and the scapegoat

wrapped in the headlines and amnesia history


we are a nation of  migrants

we are not a nation of immigrants. because

when we say we are a nation of immigrants

there is a whole nation of native folks who disappear again

in the storyline


we are walking this fence. this border. i want to jump the horizon

of the criminalizing. of this america.  the one that crosses over and over

we were your bracero program one year. your operation wetback the next

we are your refugees one year. your border problem the next


i want to jump the border with the wings of my soul

i want the rest of the border issues to drown in the ocean

i want the line between the lie to fade

i want the story of migrant america to be re-membered

i want to understand what is your notion of slave nations

and their relationship to prison industries, education,

migration and immigration, detention centers and the big corporate dollar

i want to understand this. and let it be known,


we have always crossed the border

before the border was the border

we will always cross the border


there are too many oceans between us

too many stone walls. too many memories

fading into the dirt sand. too many places where

we are sitting here. watching the criminalization

of our human nature . we are migrant nations.

whether here or there. we are the ones looking

for home.


the ocean is my first home. this is where i migrated

before this body. after i was carbon. before i had wings.

before i had palms to crawl. i migrated with snake nations

breathing water. breathing the breath we were under

the dim flickering light of the sun


we will crawl again. re-member that no man made border

is home. there are butterflies and hummingbirds still trying

there are deer and four legged still crawling through the interstate

there are memories of us. still breathing the sounds of migration


we will walk this earth. over and over.

walk this earth and re-member the places

where this earth is home. where this earth

has place. where we crawl under her skin

and let her turn us into snakes again


we have wings made of border barbed wire fence

we have souls made of plastic bags that always have another meal

we are the moment when are blistered feet get to stop and dream


there are too many casualties to this lie

there are too many conditions to this war

this war is bordering up all lands. all properties

all claims to a place and a mineral and a life element

that was never the corporations to begin with

we are the dancing sun again


they will kill. and rape and murder and hide.

they will silence and cut and bury

the bones will remain nameless

until tears fall on the same earth


siempre esta la esperanza

en las lenguas de las fronteras

donde la alma corta con sangre de oro

todas las palabras

yaqui song


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