Contemplating a Decision

2000 miles east of LA, Lies the foundation Of the American dream. 2000 miles south of LA, Lies the bones of Itza, And countless others. Buried beneath the streets Of the Zócalo lies The ruins of the Mexica heart. Feet planted on the ground, Ready to take a step, My great-grandmother comes to mind. Herminia was born in 1910, and lived through World War I, World War II, The Depression, The Cold War… But really, she didn't. She was alive when Mexico’s blood Ran down its streets, just like it did in 1521 When her native roots were butchered By soldiers and degrading laws. Her family ran from the horrors of La Cristiada and the revolutions. Her struggle and survival gave me life. Her blood and land are mine. And except by birth, I have no ties to this new world. By such means, I am given the Certain unalienable rights She could never acquire. Feet planted on the ground, Ready to take a step, Remembering her, I set south a mi tierra natal.