Ancestors

Islands to alleys 

Abuelas whispers 

And ancestors chanting 

Their breathe

A current 

That guides me 

To define our own history 

They tell me love stories  

Like when Alex and Jessie held hands in the park 

Watching the burning august sun disappearing behind the lagoon

Staring into each other’s eyes 

His, the colors of the skies

Hers, the colors of coffees

Across the sea 

And over the plains 

Clouds of heritage 

Rain our forbidden knowledge 

In a wave they whisper the names of women

Who carry us on their backs 

Like trees that hold homes fo the leaves 

As they wait for the water to soil their roots 

Abuelas’ hands are soft 

Except for the callouses 

She kisses 

My forehead 

Death, 

Only comes if we don’t remember 

The experience of our skin 

That wraps our traveled bones 

These streets we call home 

They Erupted

When we demanded our rights!  

A storm tried to destroy us 

The earth shook our homes 

The invaders attempted to extract our roots   

For days, and years, and generations 

We, who come together under one flag 

No matter where we land 

We, who still feel the Spaniards sword  

Piercing the heartbeats of African drums

We dance like children on stones carved from Taino dreams 

In the highest peak of Jayuya

We, in abuelas house

On a cold street in Chicago  

A reflection of our own 

I ask for guidance 

She motions toward home 

La Cocina

Abuelas favorite room at home is the kitchen “La sangre llama” abuela says 

Her accent is one of the last sounds left

50 years of tough city living 

Got her reminiscing 

Of a warmer place

Maybe that’s why she likes to spend so much of her time 

En la cocina

This is her time capsule  

Childhood memories come back to her every time 

she 

sprinkles 

seasoning   

Here she offers advice con sabor 

Soul sofrito con amor 

En La cocina- is where abuela 

Sits next to the window of our 3rd floor apartment

I could swear she was looking at the city’s snow covered rooftops 

Like they were the rolling green mountains of Adjuntas 

The window in our tiny cocina 

overlooks an alley  

A gallery of hood stories   

Where she would see Tony and Jorge playing the art of catch  

Jessica and Lucy playing tag

And Andy hunched over behind a dumpster doing the junkie dance 

Oye, ven a comer

The mornings were coffee 

Strong 

It was her sunrise ritual to awake the senses 

A can of bustelo sits next to the stove 

While having her pan con mantequia 

The afternoons brought bacalao frying 

The sizzles sounded like a crispy ocean 

abuela plays music while she washes dishes

The faucet sounds like a waterfall 

Salsa is dripping from the alarm clock radio 

She dances with the mop 

abuelas cocina is where I learned how to speak Puerto Rican 

Sofrito-

Pilon 

Malanga

Yuca

Machuca 

And I wait patiently for my food    

Letter to Abuela

Her food fed my soul like a hand-written letter from that was sent from heaven

Abuela this letter is for you 

For your sore back and sweat 

You open up your home

With love and grace

The food you place on the table is made with your hands but comes from your heart

No matter how tired you are 

You patiently rock me to sleep 

While caressing my face

And though I still may be drifting, in your arms I am dreaming  

No, don’t let me go, take me with you  

Over the ocean, around island

And back to your embrace

Abuela you are happy to give

You are a whirl wind 

of generosity 

Even when your body 

may be hurting 

and delicate

You still

Provide

You hold no hate 

All the family grudges

Die, on your birthday

We come together 

With flowers 

on the holidays 

just to see your face

Our queen, 

You let the grandchildren play 

On the floor

Their innocence comes in waves 

And with each passing day 

You watch over us all as we grow, mature, become adults 

And fly away 

But your always there to bend down and pick us up 

And rock us to sleep 

Ever so gently 

With soft lullaby’s 

From the island

You are soothing like sage  

Until heaven

calls your name 

Secrets

But abuela could not always protect us from the scorching heat of the city

Or the freezing brutality felt inside the home-

shhh—the secrets the family hides

can sometimes come to light 

As the pain strikes stronger on lonely nights 

When we ask why 

The hood wasn’t always good in the streets 

Nightmares still stalk our memories

At times I was too scared to speak 

The only one I could count on was me 

Raising children in a cold dirty city

Is very different than in the Caribbean heat 

Lessons we learned in apartment buildings 

Have taught us not to sleep

Those closest to us 

give us the most hurt

Then you have no one 

And that is even worse

The lost kids on the streets 

Cry for their heroin addicted mamis and poppies 

Searching for money among the beasts

And shaking like zombies

Needles and pipes 

Ravage their skin

Slowly taking their life 

Killing them from within

The drug dealers on every corner 

That poison our people  

Are often the local gang bangers 

A familiar evil

But the reasons why

They join in the first place 

Because their innocence has died

And the world has shown them nothing but hate

But the trauma in the streets 

Is not the worst that we own 

The most devastating experiences 

Happen inside the home   

Innocent children 

The joy and future of the family 

Have to keep the dark secrets 

of what happened to their little bodies  

Some scars we could not see

They were very hard to find 

The family always wanted to hide  

The illness of the mind

The abusers were often victims too 

A quiet cycle of violence

That punishes and continues 

Drugs, gangs, mental illnesses 

Some used this for survival 

The results of foreign oppression 

Mixed with the demons 

From the machismo of our culture 

The pressure for men to act   

Like they are superior 

It is the mothers, daughters and sisters

That defend and care for us to the end

Our survival is dependent 

On all the women 

Listen, Witness, Don’t Touch

Poem by Claritza Maldonado

In what direction is south, 

north, 

east, 

or west 

when there is a map in my back—in my spine? 

when i sit still, back vertical and arched 

my bones point towards the heavens and the grounds

landed and levitating woman, 

i make my worlds 

where i sway my hips and the sidewalks don’t talk back 

or blow kisses 

free & dangerous woman, I am 

listen, witness, don’t touch 

we have designed black geographies stitched by oceans 

for every country we lose, we build a universe 

just like my mother did 

we know the roots underneath our grounds like the veins on the backs of our hands we’re the black 

and brown women who spew fists out of our pores from Chicago to Humacao 

free & dangerous woman, I am 

listen, witness, don’t touch 

people will question: how do you know so much? 

i’ll tell them the women of my life have circled and danced the moon, 

i’ll tell them the names of the black and brown women this violent world has taken 

i’ll tell them about my abuela 

and how she had the softest hands and the strongest side-eye that could make constellations from  

Jayuya to Hermosa

i’ll tell them my gut knows just futures because it knows obituaries and memories 

free & dangerous woman, I am 

listen, witness, don’t touch 

May I Have This Dance?

Part 1

When we met it was 2000 and something

She was a graduate of Clemente

And I, a graduate of the streets 

It was a dark sweaty smoky basement house party  

Where we would meet 

I saw her from across the washing machines

Her huge hallow hoop earrings 

Reflected from the dim illumination of the lighters

After everytime somebody sparked one

I had seen her before  

In the winter waiting for the # 72 North Ave 

In the Spring going to church with her family

In the summer at Montrose beach 

In Autumn her outfit would always match the holidays 

But she wanted nothing to do with me…

She said I was taboo 

And it wouldn’t be right in her family’s eyes

To be with someone like… me…

Who is actually like her…

Even though we were both from Ponce

But at that time it was not to be 

As the years passed 

We kept on running into each other by chance

But that’s because our favorite thing to do is dance! 

house, salsa, freestyle, trance

just her and I and the night 

And after some laughter she finally said alright…alright 

But first we gotta meet in the daylight 

I bought her a café colao 

From Division 

At 8am 

Because that was the only time she had free 

After dropping off her child at school 

And right before her 9am meeting 

A morning walk through the park 

While sippin’ on coffee 

Became a daily routine

Along with the late rendezvous 

On the dance scene 

But she said she knew lovers like me before

Promises of eternity only lasts as long as the good times

And how did she know that I would be there through all of it

From the passion to the pandemic

She asked will our love persist? 

And I turned off the lights in the apartment

And I lit the candles 

And I put on some music 

And I asked her a question  

Part 2

May I have this dance? 

I’ll take you by the hand 

And look into your eyes for approval

Your smile will say yes

And mine will say please follow me

I don’t care of the whole club sees us

Or if we dance in our socks in el comedor 

This! Is a commitment

Salsa songs are like 10 minutes long

This ain’t no 3 minute reggaeton track

I don’t just want to grind on you

I want to dance WITH you

Now don’t get me wrong, I want to grind on you too…eventually

But after we have established our steps

I want to be your partner

I want you to be my partner

To twirl you into my arms

And catch you before you fall

Our bodies moving as one

In unison 

Flowing with the music 

Liberated,

Like Caribbean islands 

Dancing,

Like we won our independence 

I want the whole club to say they DAMN must’ve been partners for years

The band to play for us only

The rhythms of the congas will beat in our blood    

From la clave that pumps in our heart

Let the blaring horns guide our hips

While our feet glide like the keys of the pianist 

Yo no se manana but I know that I gotta be with you

Because Amores Como El Nuestro 

Should not end when the song does

Baby Tu Amor me hace bien 

And I know because I cannot stop smiling when we step

I am losing my breath! 

But I know I’ve hurt you

I stepped on your feet a few times

We’ve bumped heads on the turns

Excuse me for dancing too close

When I should’ve kept my distance

For holding you from the waist 

When I should’ve held your hand

For breaking our dance before the song was over

There were times when I didn’t look at you in the eyes 

I was too worried about my feet

But I don’t want another partner

I want another dance 

With you

One that will continue even after the song is over

Getting better as we get older

Dancing to the beats of our pulse

Dancing just to feel our fingertips

I want another dance with you! 

So I’ll take you by the hand

And look into your eyes 

And ask

May I have this dance? 

Fire on Division

Our relationships are strong because we build from our struggles with bricks of love and community. 

Even when those struggles are deadly  

BANG CRASH BOOM BURN

The fire was raging, and it was our turn 

The streets poured with Puerto Ricans

The deafening sounds of police sirens 

The gun shots that pierced through the night 

With the smashing of street lights 

It was like the roar of lions 

This war they called 1966 riots! 

The years of being beaten by police 

and treated like 2nd class citizens 

Had finally erupted into a fire on Division 

The fire rages to date  

A battle against hate

A constant fight 

To be accepted by the whites

The greater evil 

Is betraying our own people 

The fat and rich

Push the poor and sick 

We struggle to stay in our homes

Even the ones we own 

like the music we play

We are loud and will stay 

Ricanraderie

Maybe it’s that miniature flag hanging from the rear-view mirror 

That chacho broder 

The cruising down Fullerton in June halfway hanging out the passenger side window 

The smell of garlic still on your clothes and hair after you left the restaurant  

The blended rainbow family walking together to church 

That Palo Viejo rum half pint in your back pocket

The salsa Sundays 

We know each other 

Maybe it’s the familiar features in your face 

That face from Caguas 

The nose of la familia Torres 

The Lugo eyes

The smile of the Irrizary’s 

The tired travels of your family 

In shown in the posture of your body 

Tell me

I know you. And you know me 

We got the same barber 

On Kedzie 

And he always late and talks too much 

Especially when you’re late to work

That drop of the S in our Spanish  

That L in our R 

The map on your back 

Because of the history your carry 

The gold cross on your neck 

The celebration of los 3 Reyes wearing winter coats 

because it’s January 

in the unforgiving Midwest 

Can it be 

The rivers of San Lorenzo have crossed and landed onto O’Hare airport 

Took the blue line, got off and washed our feet leaving behind the sediments of

Caribbean soil

The undertow begging us back 

But our feet with our flag planted peacefully in the concrete of the cracked sidewalks  

The vast caldero left on the stove. There’s nowhere else to put it 

We are one people

WE smile with each other when we recognize the adobo 

In our words

We share 

A common bridge built with the 

hopes of our loved ones 

that the brick buildings and relentless weather 

is worth the trade 

from the green mountains and clear rivers 

here we met in basement juke jams

on the streets of summer festivals

catching each other in a dance circle

to house or hip hop

walking through alleys for shortcuts

hearing Dominoes smacking with defiance

on wooden tables 

from backyard birthday parties

here home adapted to us 

no words need to be said 

la conexión 

Is this why our pride flies 

Somos pocos pero somos grandes

Nuestra gente 

With sacred symbols from taino petroglyphs 

Tattooed to our veins 

Informs the innate way 

We move……

 We speak…... 

So we can find each other

Oceans away 

Tell me your name

I tell you mine and the town I’m from 

And the hood I’m from 

Like I’m Luis de Levitown

And Logan square

And you’ll tell me about your cousins

Who are also from there 

No ketchup on your hotdog 

But maybe on your pasteles 

Block parties are the best

The fire pump popped open on sweating days

And Like a waterfall in el jungue  

It Blesses us all

Bomba will beat

In store front spaces

Fogging up the windows from the 

Breath of the baile 

The dancers directing the drums,

Demanding! we dig into the depths 

Of our origins together

This is how we know we know each other 

When we hear Eli Samuel’s barril

Transmit the spirits of Africans

To Chicago 

We cannot help but feel the flashbacks

Of our land 

And after the music has stopped 

And the dancers are still 

And sun has slept

Our hearts remain connected 

To the cement 

And To the sand

And to each other’s heartbeat

The Elements

La clave that carries us through time. 

Oldest of the instruments. 

She crosses the ocean from Africa

In the still of the night she is our heartbeat like the familiar sounds of a 1000 coquis

The congas we feel in our bones. The rumble of memories that vibrate through our homes

Messages of resistance sent with rhythms passed down through the generations 

The piano delicate and thunderous, spreading our sound, 

as it found 

it’s way into Chicago 

Our diaspora continues to follow 

wherever we sprout

These are the elements that make up the song of our DNA  

Weaving and threading our stories with harmony, rhythm and verse

The music that will travel around the world 

Forever in flux, but always rooted in  

our journey planting seeds everywhere we go 

From the lake in Chicago 

To the beaches of Puerto Rico 

To the stars in the heavens

And everywhere between

Our song will ring 

Passed down from you to me 

Like rain giving life to the trees 

But the dancers, 

The embodiment of our joy and struggle 

Carry our music through their bodies

Interpreting our stories 

For the world to feel

The dancers,

with the fire and love

Of our ancestors

They dance! On the floors

That grow from our roots