Ojos

Ojos

These eyes once belonged to a little girl
Who dreamed of having a child
She would name her, Paloma.

These eyes shed tears
From the kicks and beatings
She endured by drunken hands
And feet
And belts
And buckles.

These eyes saw grandmother
Being choked when she tried to intervene.

These eyes saw mother too afraid
To do anything but whisper,
"No viejo."

These eyes saw doctors treat her as if she was a thing.

These eyes saw doctors led before
Her to look at her naked body
Like a sideshow freak.

These eyes saw pity
And she despised it.

These eyes saw shame for being born different:
"Dios mio! What are people going to say!"

These eyes cried from the angry faces
Telling her to "get over it."

These eyes cried from loneliness.

These eyes were afraid of discovery so they showed shame.

These eyes saw racism,
"Get that dirty indian bitch outta my way" at the grocery store.

These eyes saw bullying for being poor,
For living in a "dirty indian town," for wearing guarachis on her feet, instead of cute shoes.

These eyes cried because she wanted to bleed yet the period never came, no child was ever born, no reproductive organs to bake a life.

Yet, these eyes saw love
In the sun
In the moon
In the stars
Across the skies
In the flight of birds
In the desert

In his eyes.

These eyes see joy.

These eyes are at peace...

(c) 2015 Diana Noquetzal Garcia