Guatemala

There
On the cobblestone streets
In front of 16th century churches
I saw
A self constructed memory
Of indigenous ancestors
Pulling apart
Their most sacred temples
To create new ones

There in the Mercado
With the women
Yelling “Buena Ropa”
Selling 2nd hand merchandise
To first time buyers
I saw
A stream of
Bleached blonde
News anchors
Siempre estan tratando a ser algo
Que nunca puede ser
As they usher in
The future
Smiling
and waving
At the faceless
soon to be deseparecidos


There on a deserted beach
With black sand
Pacific waves crashing
And palm trees swaying
I saw how easy these waves
Ushered in
The first visitors
From the Far East
Long before
A Spanish word was mumbled in this place

As I stepped into side street
Tiendita
And see a girl
No older then 9
Selling cositas for tourists
I saw how easy
Third world
Becomes New World
Ordered
Into maquilas

I can not
Turn off
The colonizer/d
In me
And it is more prevalent
In a Spanish speaking place
Funny how a chicana
From seattle
Who didn’t learn Spanish until 20
Can feel at peace among
A people
She has next to nothing in common with

The only thing we do share

Is a colonizer