what the ghosts of las adelitas say in the afterlife part 1

By ire’ne lara silva
we didn’t have time for ribbons or petticoats or
high-necked dresses no time for sidesaddles or
single spurs no one else to saddle or feed or care
for our horses we practiced when we could and
paid the price of not learning with falling with
bruises with broken bones with our lives with
the lives of our loved ones
we taught each
other when we did not know what we could eat
beyond frijoles and nopales portulaca and the
seeds of the mesquite we taught each other what
was medicine what roots what leaves what seeds
what poultices what prayers in whatever
languages we knew we trusted our children to
each other knowing we might not return
men
rewrite history with impunity they will remake
repaint reshape us say they loved us and fought
for us they will lighten our skin and change our
features highlighting hips and nipples and red
red lips or they will make us all into virgin
madonnas protecting mexicanidad
but our red
red blood spilt on the ground does not know
how to be silent we did what we had to do to
survive then and later in this life in the afterlife
or the life before the stories are not dead stories
never die we will speak our piece the living can
be silenced the dead cannot

Notes:

This poem is part of the portfolio “Escaramuza, the Poetics of Home.” You can read the rest of the portfolio in the April 2025 issue. 

Source: Poetry (April 2025)
  • Article

    poetry-magazine

    Introduction: Escaramuza, the Poetics of Home

    By Constance Jaeggi

    This folio pairs my photographic portraits of US-based escaramuzas with commissioned poetry by the Mexican American poets ire’ne lara silva and Angelina Sáenz.