Читать книгу Other Seasons - Harold J. Recinos - Страница 23

in the barrio the walls sing, whistles

blow for kids playing on the street,

rice slowly cooks on stoves in kitchens

smelling of yesterday’s saintly feast.

shopping bag abuelas dream of big

houses with pale maids that cannot

speak a word of Spanish, children with

private tutors sitting on the plastic slip

covered sofas educating dreams, a world

with brown lives rolling in justice and free.

in the barrio, my brown hands searched the

dark for light, found one brighter than the

sun, and will not let it go.