I was the Espinoza brothers of the Valle de San Luis. All were added to the number of heads that in the name of civilization were placed on the wall of independence, heads of brave men who died for cause or principle, good or bad. Are but a few. They Dared to face The force of tyranny Of men Who rule By deception and hypocrisy. In a country that has placed a Different weight of indignity upon My Age- Old Burdened back.
Inferiority Is the new load . . . .
I look at myself And see part of me Who rejects my father and my mother And dissolves into the melting pot To disappear in shame. In society's own name. The altars of Moctezuma I stained a bloody red. My back of Indian slavery Was stripped crimson From the whips of masters Who would lose their blood so pure When revolution made them pay, Standing against the walls of retribution. Blood has flowed from me on every battlefield between campesino, hacendado, slave and master and revolution.