Memory of the Dead (Land and Liberty)

Wealthy vampires
With the cold hands of executioners
Execute
Executive decisions

Determined to destroy
What 1 million women, children, and men
1910 died, drowning in the rage of battle.
Mothers, half naked

Infants clutching their necks
Running frantically
Tripping over the bodies of their sons
Teeth gnashing

Swinging machete
Spitting blood and mud, and screaming:
Land, and liberty!
Were erased.

Buried and burned
Along with the memory of the dead
Along with the ejido.
With the smooth stroke of a pen

And with the ghost of Nixon present in their eyes
They smiled.
And pronounced the omnipitence
Of the free market

The profits of profit
Extending the scurge of columbus and pizarro
The freedom to buy things you can never afford
The freedom for indians to buy corn that once

Flourished overgrown in their backyards
The freedom to die of curable disease
The freedom to watch their children's stomachs well and burst
The freedom to starve and die

Without land or liberty
But Ramona, with eyes of obsidian
Peering through her blood and sweat drenched mask
Darding, unseen

Changing direction with the swiftness of a bird
Through the shanty's of the canyon
With every coyote, every insect, every phylum of life
Urging her, propelling her forward.

The leaves and branches of the forest
Part for miles, clearing her path
The voices and screams of the dead beneathe her feet
Echo in the deepest chasm of her soul

Hurling her, toward the city
History surging through her veins
Pulsing through her fingers
Hurling her, towards the city

She caresses her trigger
And the words of magome fulfil her being
And with each shot she fires, she affirms her movement
Enough! Enough!

No!
I will see my own blood flow
Before you take my land, or my liberty