by Jacquelin Valadez
My father is the color of the ground he was born of rich soil with the voices of family past
Speaking through the crops that have given a livelihood
To generations upon generations.
My mother, an aristocratic pearl
Evidence of European settlers
Who, amongst the shores of Mexican coast,
decided that I would be born with the thick, jet black hair
of a Guamare Indian
with the pale skin of a conquistador’s “love.”
My skin is my own Malinche, traitor to a heart
screaming in a language so ancient
muffled by broken Spanish
Jacquelin Valadez is an emerging Mexican poet from the Chicagoland area. She is a student at the Milwaukee Institute of Art an Design receiving a Bacherlors degree in New Studio Practice with a minor in Writing. Her writing process includes laying on the floor and crying.