Like the flowers which bloom upon the desert floor,
they passed this way once before. Hearts yearning to
choose their destiny walking under the rays of a desert
The burning heat, sears the soul of the faint hearted,
but the little flowers hold their own. While beating hearts
call out to one another in hope their dreams will rally.
The desert flowers, cry when one of their own has died,
alone, and unknown, parched lips praying up to a burning
sky,while others keep on moving, even in the dark of night.
Somewhere a Madrecita cries, “Where are you Mijo, are you
still alive?” “Where is Mija, God forbid the desert has taken her
for its bride!” All that is heard is the endless silence of the
Once more the tears of a Madrecita fall upon the desert floor,
as small wooden crosses mark the spots where once stood
smiling faces and beating hearts. Flowers of the Desert
will live within a - Madrecitas heart forevermore.
Written in remembrance of all the immigrants who have died
chasing the American dream, of freedom and equality, R.I.P.
Frank Solis Copyright 2016
All Rights Reserved