Poetry Against Racism : JUANITA GARCIA VERA

JUANITA

GARCIA VERA

THE WATER HOSE

We had stopped at the farmhouse

Trying to get some drinking water

Our truck had cut off

Then we walked

It was a hot summer day

We came up to the porch

As the dog began to bark

A middle aged white woman

Peered out the door

“What you want”? She yelled

Could we have some water, please?

She pointed to the water hose

Connected to the windmill

We quickly drank and left

My dad thanking the woman

For the drink

But she said nothing,

Slamming the door

That was the first time

I saw distrust and hate

I was very young but I felt

The tone and words cut deep

The wound that separated us

From them festered

A sense of confusion

Settled in my mind

Deep inside my heart

I felt sorry for Dad

Why had she spoken

In that disgusted tone

Why was she so mean?

We wanted water

And though we got it

It somehow didn’t quench

My thirst at all

The pit of my stomach churned

I was nauseated and felt sick

My dad walked in silence

Exchanging few words

Not one mention of

What had occurred

A neighbor happened by

Helped start the truck

We left the farmhouse

Far behind but,

The sick feeling

Stayed with me for many years

It is still there just on the verge

Of spilling over at the slightest

Notion of ill will,

Insulting language,

Or violent actions

Against my people

Each time I see

The water spew

From the water hose

I remember Dad

How he must have felt

Then I think , he was a far better Human Being

Than those that pretend to be

THE COLORS OF THE RAINBOW

Racism exists without doubt

While blatant language

Is subdued

One can feel the tension

Cut like a knife

When entering

Some towns in Texas

And across parts

Of the South

One must be careful

Not to stop over

In these small

Mostly white towns

That is if you are not

The right color,

If you are not white

Some people

Don’t like

Mexicans, blacks or

Anyone other than white

A black man from one of

These towns

Was tied to the tailgate

Of a pickup truck

And dragged down

The country road

Until only pieces remained

The good old boys

That did that

Are serving time

These small towns

Have a history

Of violent racist behavior

The law and residents

Cover up a lot

I don’t go

To the snake’s pit

I don’t go

Where I am not wanted

Time has changed nothing

White race rules

In the backwoods of Texas

And places of the old South

They live and breed hatred

Waving the flag of supremacy

I wonder if Jesus is White ?

I think He is

A rainbow

All the colors

Under the Sun

I am, a prism

Beaming with light

Shinning brightly

In HIS love

“Those that fail to learn from history, are doomed to repeat it” Winston Churchill

WHERE LIGHT SHINES

I solemnly stood studying

The expansive site

Row after row

Lined the open field

Thousands perhaps millions

Were hoarded like livestock

Marked for extermination

Images flooded my conscious

Their bodies frail, pale

Dark sunken eyes

Vacant stares shed little hope

Some were mere shadows

That drifted into darkness

Many held hope

Day after day

Most succumbed to illness,

Suicide, starvation and genocide

The will to survive is innate

Even as hope wanes

In the shadow of uncertainty

Hope lives where light shines

It allows us to harbor dreams

Most dear

To endure all

To laugh and live

Once more

Even though it is but in dreams

Even as death lingers all around

One holds on

To the smallest glimmer of hope

Egos, pride and materialism

Fall short in life’s plan

A memory of the past

Blows in the wind

Where they haunt me still

So many walked here

Like a breeze

That quietly touched

My soul

In the consciousness

Of good intentions

Hope died

In the eyes of

A frozen sullen statue

That saw it all

The crematorium,

The gas chamber,

The barbed wire fences

My heart ached for those

Lost souls

That died waiting

True evil lives in the hearts

And minds of many

While others blindly follow

Without thought of actions

One man’s dream

Another’s nightmare

And millions fell into

The spell and whim

Of a mad man

I feel the evil

That lurked here

The evil that lives

In all of us

To allow this

To go on for so long

While we saw and knew

Yet did nothing

I picked up a small stone

Sensing part of them lingered here

Holding it close to my heart

I prayed for all that passed here

I openly wept

Noting silent cries

Around me

While tears fell on

The killing Fields

Inspired by my journey to Dachau, Germany

Juanita Garcia Vera

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JUANITA GARCIA VERA

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