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(RODOLFO GONZALES)

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I Am Joaquin

  

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I am Joaquin,
Lost in a world of confusion,
Caught up in a whirl of a gringo society.
Confused by the rules,
Scorned by attitudes,
Suppressed by manipulations,
And destroyed by modern society
My fathers
     have lost the economic battle
and won
     the struggle of cultural survival.
And now!
     I must choose
               Between the paradox of
Victory of the spirit,
despite physical hunger
               Or
    to exist in the grasp
of American social neurosis
sterilization of the soul
   and a full stomach.

............................................................

I shed tears of anguish
as I see my children disappear
behind the shroud of mediocrity
never to look back to remember me.
I am Joaquin.
             I must fight
            And win this struggle
            for my sons, and they
            must know from me
            Who I am.
Part of the blood that runs deep in me
Could not be vanquished by the Moors
I defeated them after five hundred years,
and I endured.
            The part of blood that is mine
            has labored endlessly five-hundred
            years under the heel of lustful
                    Europeans
                       I am still here!
I have endured in the rugged mountains
    of our county
I have survived the toils and slavery
   of the fields.
               I have existed
in the barrios of the city,
in the suburbs of bigotry,
in the mines of social snobbery,
in the prisons of dejection,
in the muck of exploitation
and
in the fierce heat of racial hatred.

And now the trumpet sounds
The music of the people stirs the
              Revolution.
Like a sleeping giant it slowly
rears its head
to the sound of
                         Tramping feet
                       Clamouring voices
                     Mariachi strains
                   Fiery tequila explosions
                The smell of chile verde and
             Soft brown eyes of expectation for a
                                             better life.
And in all the fertile farm lands,
                            the barren plains,
the mountain villages,
smoke smeared cities
                         We start to MOVE.
   La Raza!
Mejicano!
   Espanol!
      Latino!
         Hispano!
            Chicano!
or whatever I call myself,
                       I look the same
                       I feel the same
                       I cry
                               and
                       Sing the same
I am the masses of my people and
I refuse to be absorbed.
                      I am Joaquin
The odds are great
but my spirit is strong
                      My faith unbreakable
                      My blood is pure
I am Aztec Prince and Christian Christ
                      I SHALL ENDURE!
                      I WILL ENDURE!


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