“A Love Letter to Tucson”
By Mixelle Rascon
Inspired by all of you who have sacrificed so much para una comunidad con dignidad
Desert blooms,
multiple scents,
abundant in the air amidst our conversations,
new talk about SB 1070 and 2281 have come early this spring season-
death season.
Ocotillos, saguaros, chollas, are starting to rise as high as temperatures and soon,
small shriveled prayers will evaporate into hopelessness along our tribal lands.
The bodies have already started to come in,
86 so far.
La migra,
vigilant like birds of prey along cliff dwellings,
painting America’s White picket fence some thousand miles long with militarization,
enclosing the American Dream of exclusivity,
of denigration.
Like coyotes,
following their pray,
they make their way to South Tucson.
Picturesque murals of Las Adelitas, Cesar Chavez, and Emiliano Zapata,
are now images of sadness, of rape,
chipping away as ICE agents swarms like ants,
hunting for something sweet.
“Illegal”
the word agitates their creed,
candles lit with signs held high,
and as quick as steam rises from the pavement,
Chicanos have already taken to the streets.
Do I look illegal to you?
Marchas,
chants,
tears of separation,
lights and sirens.
¿No tengo papeles y que?
Hand cuffs carved in my wrist,
still smelling like the sweat of the Capitol 9.
The sting of internment camps, of deportations forms, of thirst,
is ever-present in his voice.
As we drive beside the purple mountains,
a breeze of resistance comes to sooth me,
a desert whisper,
and as quick as it is aggressive and defiant she tells me,
Arizona will be yours again!