New Poem - Tarahumara

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TARAHUMARA

That is not
our name,

You clap,
Witnessing.

We are merely
Rarámuri -

"runners on foot".

There is no
Need

For praise.
Do you cheer

The sunrise for its
Steadfast work?

Or the simple turkey
For the food they make?

Once,
We were farmers, race -hunters.

Before Narcos.
Before their money.

Before the rain
Became

A writhing ghost.
Made fertile ground dust.

Our children
Were taken.

Not with weapons,
But with a false remedy

For a sick soul.
Soñaderos and their

Dream medicine
Replaced with money.

The young ones
Lift heavy packs

Of marijuana
And never return.

Swallowed
By the Estrados Unidos.

Our history,
Our huaraches,

Now covered
In drugs and mud

And blood-marked
Beasts.