Let me be,
I know you can't
stand the way I spread
over, under and through
your fenced attempts to
marginalize my freedom
of passage.
I am America's work hog
frosted by the sun whose
mother tongue speaks of
a colonialist, and
yet cursed as aliens by
colonialist. Tu Entiend?

San Houston, Davy Crocket
and others whose last
stand cried Alamo,
but we know - all did not
know - or forgotten
Texas, Arizona, New
Mexico, California,
beyond the Grand Canyon
belong to another. .. Tu Entiend?

Generations have leap-frog in
populations steeped in mental
fog, until clear skys will
realize a new day -
born of revenge, to return
a heritage buried
in blood stain history, and
cleansed by the youth
whose duality is Red, White,
Blus & Green, divided
by the Rio Grande. Tu Entiend?

The Brown Berets speaks
of Aztlan and Aztecs - an
imnigrants cry, who have
not forgotten the reason
or why's, and will not
be denied a future ­
because they know its
crucial to a peoples'
survival, so this is more
than a revival. Tu Tienda?

And the maraca's shake like
a human earthquake rumbling
into united voices marching over
buenos noches, for the
night brings out search
lights, a minute of a
man standing with arms in hand,
seeking to maintain
their claim - as
colonialist reign. Que Paso?

Indeed, buenos noches is
the fleeting feet escaping poverty
under moonless sky across
the cold winter desert, reaching
the spring destination where
streets pave with fool's gold,
tarnished by white
supremacy, codified in a
fantasy of can you see
by the daunterly light.
It's not clemency or amnesty we seek,
but liberated territories by
fait accompli, when the
census is bureau no
longer able to count me.
Truly, our exodus without Moses
or the parting of the
Red. Sea .. Tu Tienda?
So, let me be!

Jalil Muntaqim