But This Isn't El Salvador
By John Trudell
Reading poetry from Central America
After talking with my brother
Suddenly remembering how they kill
Couldn’t really say it straight before
They told me you were dead
I died
They told me your mother was dead
I died again
They told me the kids were dead
I died with each name
Fire
The government said accident
They lied
Duck Valley my El Salvador
Our last kiss was our last good-bye
They came for you in winter’s night
Winter’s wind wailed in mourning
Government people searched for days
Scene of crime digging through ashes
Looking for body parts and disturbing evidence
We buried you all in a large grave
While a blizzard covered us in a blanket of snow
How it stormed terrible pain in the land of the free
Some ones should have noticed
Fewer women laughing
Some ones should have noticed
Fewer children growing up
But this isn’t El Salvador
Warm strong willed woman
I still have memories you gave me
Maybe if we recognized peasant eyes
Maybe if we recognized plantation lies
Archbishop Romero would have nothing
On you
Trying not to cry how will I ever stop
Ever see a wounded lion try hiding pain
Watch out it doesn’t work
But this isn’t El Salvador
At times I feel every embrace we shared
At times every tender moment still lives
Met Sandinista who touched my cheek
Kind of like you used to
Said to me you are one of us
But this isn’t El Salvador
Gentle woman natural mother natural world
Some people won’t comprehend what happens
Who wants realities cluttered by acts of war
Have to keep a lot inside at times
Not offending people with words
They don’t want to see pictures of
But this isn’t El Salvador
Some people told me I’m strong to survive
I’m not strong I’m not weak no morality
No right no wrong one tear at a time I fall I rise
But this isn’t El Salvador
You loved your people
In the face of the American dream
Fry bread and tortillas some wars are the same
Who thinks Wounded Knee and Sand Creek
Happen only in history books is this not history
We live we die but this isn’t El Salvador
The first look you gave me
Your eyes spoke your spirit your heart
My heart our heart there was no other way
Some ones say we’re with you brother
We understand what’s been done
Some ones say but this isn’t El Salvador
This is America yes I know
Almost two thousand seasons
We fall we rise we fall we rise
Copyright Credit: John Trudell, "But This Isn’t El Salvador" from Lines from a Mined Mind. Copyright © 2008 by John Trudell. Reprinted by permission of Fulcrum Publishing.