I am born from the people of the sun.

I have seen the building of our temples and the tear down of our kings.

I tend to our flora and make friends with their fauna;

Their mythical spirits dance and sing within my soul.

They became one with the people under yellow and red,

indigenous and mestizo united under letters of love.

Then an eagle and his snake swallowed by red, white, and blue;

The stripes and their stars.

 

Thus became the battle of the sun and stars.

 

Millions of our warriors fight against another, debating the strength of their own;

forgetting our fight against the others.

But in few moments, we find the chance to fight on behalf of our own.

We are the hidden, pitted against the seen,

who are cartoon villains of cruelty and ignorance.

My fellow artists and I sing their songs and hold our mirrors up,

playing our part in the war against our captors;

against their cruelty and ignorance.

 

We search for the truth of our futures hidden in the clouds of purple skies

Hoping that one day, these glass ceilings will shatter

and we can spread the wings of our warriors

to rejoin ourselves with the sun.

 

So we scream in the loudest stage voices we have to chip to the glass,

 we shoot sharp arrows of wit and intelligence at the cracks

until they turn to spider webs,

and we throw rocks at the ones who repair the glass, over and over again.

 

We try,

the sun beaming down and the stars shining bright,

the eagle children of the sun waiting impatiently

for the repairmen and the snow-white doves soaring against our sky

to realize

that the sun is married to the north star

and kin of their milky way.

The sun is a star.

 

One of the biggest stars there is.