IN POETRY
El Norte

by H.J. Recinos
​

the caravan departs today
for the near uncrossable

border, the smell of sweet
fruit juices in the air on a

dim village street, chattering
mothers with infants in arms

debating what is right, youth
preparing to emerge from the

years of being buried beneath
English lies, and a local priest

on hand with a prayer to blow
the walkers clear of the words

from harsh white tongues. the
migrants in the greatest homeless

history told, the inheritors of the
earth who suffer poverty, endure

rape, experience hunger, grieve
death, flee violence, and are the

world’s slaves with unwanted dark
skin, are rushing to the border to find

a place further than anyone had ever
imagined from home. they are on the

move with their blistered feet toward
the North country that committed crimes

for more than a century on their Spanish-
speaking streets while singing of liberty,

equality and freedom with cleverly tied
strings and not a single lick of shame.