Streets of Blood A Chicano Mothers Tears

A mother cries over the body of her young son

gunned down so young, lying in a pool of blood.

It seems like only yesterday, that the young

man’s laughter echoed throughout their home.

She clutches his body, gently cradling the boy

she once held as a child. Her tears falling like

rain. The bullets that took her son’s life are a

tribute to the puppet master offered up by his

unthinking slaves.

“Mijo, mijo,” her words are spoken to the wind as

her son will never hear his mother’s voice again.

The cruel city streets greedily drink up the blood,

as an offering to the god of hate.

Tomorrow, the boy’s mother will cover herself in

black, a symbol of the darkness which now fills

her heart. She will then light a candle to the Virgin

and pray for her sons soul, wondering how she will

survive in the world without his smile to light the

way.

The boy’s friends come to the velorio and talk

about revenge, but in reality no one wins, for
the streets of the barrio belong only to the city!

Before long a different mother will cry, and another

young Chicano will die, as more young bloods keep

falling for the same old lies.

Too many young Chicano's listening to the garbage

that life works just like in the songs and movies,

even though most of that stuff is only fiction.

The word art comes from the word artificial, a

technique used to manipulate the human mind

into thinking that something is real. But bullets

don’t shed tears and they don’t have feelings.

They don’t feel pain or care who they hit, because

bullets don’t think!

Tonight in the barrio, another Chicano mother will
cry!

Real life is about young people honoring La Raza,

not about dishonoring it by destroying each other!

Frank Solis Copyright 2016

All Rights Reserved

LA RAZA (OUR PEOPLE) What the Words “La Raza,” Really Mean

Some Raza was already here in their
Native land. While others came to
the United States from Mexico,
after the Mexican revolution.

Entire families came. Grandfathers,
grandmothers, fathers and mothers.
Some came escaping the violence of
the revolution and repression, others
to escape poverty. Their eyes all firmly
set upon the colossus of the north.

Many Mexican-Americans joined the
U.S. Military and became heroes,
whenever the voice of war and conflict
raged around the world.

The majority came to find work wherever
they could. Some migrated to the large cities,
others to small towns, and some to farms
and ranches.

Men and women with hearts of gold and
nerves of steel. These were times when a
person’s word was their bond. When most
work was done manually, without the help
of modern power tools.

They worked long days, with muscles
aching and backs hurting, yet their hearts
were always full of love and their strong
arms full of acceptance respect and hope.  

Honor, was the main pillar which held the
family together back then, as foolishness
by “La Raza,” was hardly tolerated. So much
so, that in case a man did not work and support
his family he would be considered an outcast
among other men. 

In the summertime the cotton fields beckoned
to La Raza, into doing work for which no
employment application was needed or required.
Only a strong back and the ability to withstand
the merciless heat of the hot sun, and the
sharp points of the cotton bolls upon ones hands.

“Our people,” also went up north to follow the
crops and pick vegetables, while others picked
fruit in different states. The smell of freshly made
flour tortillas would waft out of the houses that
the farmers and ranchers provided for “La Raza.”

Eventually, some of the work done by field
workers was replaced by machines, such as
in the cotton fields. Factories, warehouse and
service industry jobs, replaced what was before.
Many Mexican-Americans also did well in the
military, while others worked in civil service,
as many still do.

Generations of Mexican-Americans, now
carry the standard, of those great people who
came before them, and whose seed was sown
throughout the southwest.

Some went to colleges and universities to
study for professional occupations. The
intelligentsia of “La Raza,” now has many
professors, doctors, engineers, architects, 
politicians, attorneys, law enforcement, and 
other great men and women in other careers 
who contribute to the well-being of this great 
nation.

However, throughout all of this, not much has
really changed. Our brown skin has stayed
brown, and kids still ask their moms for tortillas
with mantequilla. Café con leche is still a
welcome sight in the morning. Taquitos still call
out from the breakfast table, and so does the pan
dulce.

Smart phones aside, the words “La Raza,” will
always mean the same as they have always meant,
“Our People,” the special words which embody our
Mexican-American Cultural Heritage.


Written in Honor of Hispanic Heritage Month
2016

Frank S. Copyright 2016 All Rights Reserved