Spic, wetback, beaner,
Border rat, pepper-belly, orange picker,
Names commonplace now
For Latinos and Hispanics,
Used to break,
Used to hurt,
Used to kill,
Ignorance, Malice, Contempt
But most importantly
Fear of what is different,
Fear of what is great,
Fear of what has always been great,
For the sun shone for centuries
On the shores of enduring Tenochtitlan,
Against the backs of the condors,
That soared over mighty Cusco
And would set peacefully, on the steps
Of the temples of rugged Tikal,
Intolerance sailed over
Imposing their views,
over a land that they’ll claim they found,
a pirate finding gold on Spanish ships,
a dog finding chicken on its owner's plate;
Empires traversing hundreds of miles
Covering numerous terrains.
We come from empires.
We come from glory.
Perhaps a forgotten glory,
or rather, a buried glory;
Glory buried under years of slander, under years of close-mindedness
Buried under years of rumors, violence, misconceptions, appropriations,
It has been said that the buried are not forgotten,
It’s time to unearth.