Wednesday, April 10, 2013

When the Mirror Looks Back

The mirror looks at me while
purple sweat drips from my brow.
I lift these evil metals and pant.

My father looks back, through that dirty mirror.
My grandfathers and great-grandfathers and great-great-grandfathers too.
They came by boat, they came by land,
or were captured in a war, adopted
willingly and unwillingly by this great land.

They sold fruit, made wine,
spoke of Jupiter, Saint Anthony, Quetzalcoatl, and HaShem,
each in their own tongue
sighing their own burden.

They speak to me...Michael...Michele...Miguel...
Be the Man of your destiny.

"Just twenty more reps," I respond.

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