Childhood in dreams
is a home of love’s abundance
Pinata full and burst
Fresh tortillas and chicken hot leftover
Chewy pink candies under bubbling
Grins and dancing feet
We knew no childhood
You and I
We were little once
We were weak and human together
I remember you. I saw you. I loved you
Bastard orphan twins with blonde
Hair and blue eyes
Wearing each one sandal
Hand in hand, naked starved
Smiling and speaking, Spanish
For each other’s hope, for my hope
Each time I hoped for god or love
I hoped for your smiles
dead children or living children
I have carried you for a life time
Meek and powerless children
I’ve sacrificed soul in exchange
For mercy, for you
The least of us
To know home
To know freedom
To know justice
To know love
But no one answers
No one takes the trade
No one looks up
I try to grab them and shake them
Slap them awake but my hands go through them like shadow wind
My voice doesn’t reach help
or power’s mule ears
God has died with you, childhood
Inside me, his corpse festers and wets
into yours. I am the burial ground
of hope or love. I am sand or dirt
***
I see their little laughy smiles
Their dark eyes and dark skin
Shiny and beautiful black hair
They come to me in the soup line
They ask for hugs or food or aqua
They beg for a mother
They cry for a Padre
They call me auntie
they call me Crackhead’s daughter
They call me missionary’s bastard
They call for me
They call for me
They call for me
Anita, Anita, they cry
But I can’t find them
I look in government’s buildings
But they are barred and guards
Stand with guns and badges. The windows boarded and doors locked
I pound on the door
I pound on the door
No one comes to answer
I pound the invisible line
I call out matching numbers
I search the scrub and desert
With water and GPS
I find little bits of white bone, rifle cartridges and lizard men who
Have no heaven or shame
In forgien made pickup trucks
Protecting sand forgetting
Self or right or familia
They are running
They are running
Until they are all run down
they come to me in my nightmares
They call me war machine
They call me fat white pig
The call me Jesus’ fast
They call me Maria’s burden
But I cannot not find them
in light of day
In the darkness of night
thick smoke hides
Are those the flickering eyes
Or fire flies
In the tent cities
In the dirt streets
In the slaver’s workhouse
In prison cell
I search but no one seems
To see or hear or touch or know
Lost child
Lost childhood
I am searching
I am calling out
Mr., sir, lady of the scale
Give back the empathy
Give back the humanity
Please, lady liberty
Da los bebes
Freedom