The story of our name

I was born

in the mouth

of the Río Bravo

the untamable river

the wild roots of the crystaline waters

that traverse our bodies

I was born

in the mouth

of the Río Bravo

as the monarchs arrived

carrying the harvest on their wings,

a mosaic

of squash, maize and frijol

I was born

from the purépecha’s misty pine tree covered volcanic thrust

commingling with the palestinian wound

My grandmother

manuela, healer, seed carrier

My grandfather

caretaker of earth

struggled

with their eldest daughter

Coatlicue

on what was happening

to her body

I was born and

given as a gift

to Coatlicue’s parents

to raise me

and I became

El viejo, el viejito

Arnoldo

named after Coatlicue’s lover’s best friend

and not after the place we go

to pray, Tamaulipas

Coatlicue disappeared

and I kept her

in the caverns

of my body

I grew up

with her eleven brothers and sisters

and named my daughters

after my grandparents

the women who who labor

to ensure we do not become machines

My elders

sat across from me

sharing a meal

we were

each other’s mirros

of the past, present, future

I followed Abuelita

(in ceremony)

who taught me

how to walk

and to always offer water

to anyone

who came to our door

Abuelita said

You must treat everyone you meet with reverence and respect

You never know if that person at the door or that passes by on your path

is a holy being

And if you don’t know what to do

always answer

always respond

with you dignity.

My grandfather’s body vibrated with the dust of horizon and plants

He could find any place we migrated to work

His prayer beads

were the constellations

He would pull back his head way back as in ecstasy

under

the star-filled

night

as he prayed

In his left hand his beads

Inn his right hand the constellations

He loved Manuela

and worked

every

single

day

of his life

so that she could do her work

of healing . . .

August 2024 | Santa Cruz-Oakland 

[Poem & photograph: arnoldo colibrí (c) ]