Poem… the caravan

i stand with the caravan…


the caravan

–december 1, 2018–

springfield, ohio, usa

by Luis S. González-Acevedo

the caravan is humanity
each migrant = a person
each person = a reflection of God’s divinity.

how quickly history is forgotten
untaught, conveniently ignored
delusions of self-grandeur misbegotten
a willed ignorance without reward.

the caravan was not born in 2018
Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador…
these poor victims are guilty of nothing
because the caravan was born on foreign shores.

migrations forced by corporations
and the selfish, imperial interventions
of a so-called developed nation.
hopefully, you remember now…

the political bill has reached the table
Lady Justice has served it: time to pay the debt
the history itemized is not a fable:
facts the God you say you serve will not forget.


just in case you need it…
…but Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of heaven belongs.” NRSV, Matthew 19:14


the caravan will appear in a future book of poems and stories (release date | July 2020)–



 

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Poem… i saw the “face” of god

I stand with immigrant, migrant, and mobile mothers & fathers –especially those who have been separated from their children by Satan’s agents: president #45 and his demons.


i saw the “face” of god

for president #45

–june 17, 2018–

by Luis S. González-Acevedo

in america 2016, i saw the “face” of god
and the outpouring of “his spirit” in 2017

ever since, this unrecognizable god seems to linger
like a repeating nightmare
that gets worse and doesn’t go away

he sees “the other” with hatred and intolerance
as if his children were better –superior
fallacy of fallacies, vanity of vanities

this distorted god inspires quotes from the holy bible
to justify separating children from parents
and criminalizing the search for dreams

the fake elijahs of today stand before their own god…
a great and powerful fear shatters lives
can the true lord be in such fear?
with fear comes hatred
can the real lord be in such hatred?
with hatred comes intolerance
can a merciful and loving lord be in their intolerance?

the true elijahs await the gentle whisper
of love, courage and acceptance

because in these, the true god abides


i saw the “face” of god will appear in a future book of poems (release date | July 2020)–



 

Poem… “Don’t Speak English, I”


I dedicate this poem to those who without knowing a language have had to speak it.


“Don’t Speak English, I”

by Luis S. González-Acevedo

Father told me, “Tell them…”
“I don’t speak English,”
because I understood the world in Spanish.
On a school day morning and acutely shy –ahem, ahem…
Reinventing grammar, I told them:
“Don’t speak English, I.”
The sentence was only close to right. I could have died!
But like an immigrant who would NOT be defeated,
my courageous little mouth, lips and tongue repeated:
“Jes! Don’t spic English, I.”


–You can find the poem in Caribbean Poet, by Luis S. González-Acevedo–


 

Poem… May we have a home?


I dedicate this poem to those who have been denied a home because of race or ethnicity.


May we have a home?

by Luis S. González-Acevedo

The immigrants stood at their prospective landlord’s door in latent panic,
knowing it was the only way to beg for that apartment
and secure their children’s well-adjustment;
but they weren’t Anglo nor Germanic.
The couple was persistent. Caribbean Hispanics
battered by their circumstances and haggard
–yet intent on flying skyward.
But in the end, their mobile souls bled
when the soulless landlord said:
“I’m sorry, but you’re not the right Hispanic.  –You know… European… Spaniards.”


–You can find the poem in Caribbean Poet, by Luis S. González-Acevedo–


 

Poem… My Childhood Island Fades


I dedicate this poem to those who have left their homeland, my grandfather Don Luis, Don Pedro Albizu Campos, Doña Blanca Canales and Puerto Rico.


My Childhood Island Fades

by Luis S. González-Acevedo

Palm trees fade away…
Royal branches swaying disappear
as my youthful Caribbean fear
increases –anguish that this growing distance won’t allay.
Heart of Mine wish upon a star for me to stay
or in the future runaway back to my island’s shores.
Over sands, I’ll wade among its waves once more:
Seduced by seafoam’s wet caress
and kissed by the Atlantic’s breath
with winds that bind my ever-present soul ashore.


–You can enjoy the poem in Caribbean Poet, by Luis S. González-Acevedo–