The Sixth Sun Has Arrived

I did not
Cross the border
But
My mother did
And so
This battle
Is mine—

And I will
Surely win;

I can take on
Entire governments
With my pen—
The ink
Will drip
And clip
The superficial wings
You flaunt;

My metaphors
Will crack
The biased floors
On which you stand—
You and your
Yankee-doodle horse.

And
I was born
Of Huitzilopochtli’s
Fervent feathers:

Yes,
I am wind;

And
I was born
Of Xochipilli’s
Potent pollen:

Yes,
I am song.

They say we cross
The borders
Just to break the law—
But, I was born,
My son,
To break
The brazen chains
From which
My gente hang;

The Sixth Sun Has Arrived.