By Johnie Guerra
Sacrificio
I am Citlali, and I was a star in the heavens flying above this world, till one day, sent by my father, the Sky, I fell from the heavens and landed underground. My mother, the Earth, nourished me till I became a prickly pear cactus.
Through the fruit of the cactus, I entered the world in the form of a man. Immediately I longed to fly. I wanted to return to my brothers and sisters, the moon, stars, and sun. So, I lifted my arms to the side and leaned forward, but on the ground, I remained. Unexpectedly, the four winds encircled me as they whispered a message from my father, the Sky. It wasn’t my time to fly home; I was to stay among the people and seek happiness and love.
I did find happiness and love among them; her name was Atzi. When we kissed, it rained, and when we touched, it would thunder. Those rains brought an abundance of maíz for the people and me, a son. I named him Itotia. From the moment he was born, his legs did not stop moving. He loved to dance, which pleased the people, and my father, the Sky, allowed the rains to fall on the earth. I lived among the people for many years, almost forgetting where I came from because I was happy and in love.
Then one day, strangers came into our world. They were not stars, nor were they from my father, the Sky. Their skin was colorless, and I could not understand their words, but I knew they contained no love. They stayed among us.
Shortly after the strangers came, Itotia fell ill. He did not dance anymore. His only comfort was being in Atzi’s arms as she sang him a song of the ancestors. One morning I awoke to find Itotia’s soul had left his body. Sadly, I realized, in her grief, Atzi’s soul went with his.
I cursed my father, the Sky, in anger, for sending me here to find happiness and love. I cursed him because I had never known the unbearable pain of losing love. My happiness and love left me, and without Atzi, our kisses, and Itotia’s dances, the rains left the people. In the hopes of rejoining Atzi and Itotia, I thrust an obsidian knife through my heart, but the four winds stopped me; they had a message from my father, the Sky. “Citlali, my son, you will die, but not now and not by your hand.”
When a star who becomes a man loses their happiness and love, the rains leave the people. Only with that star’s blood can the ground flourish again. Only with my blood can my mother, the Earth, thrive until the Sky sends the next star to find happiness and love.
The people I lived with for these past years knew what my father, the Sky, wanted. I gladly did what they asked because death was the only cure for my grief. I climbed a hundred-foot pole; the music started playing when I reached the top. I closed my eyes and began to dance like Itotia. Suddenly, I felt an arrow pierce my side, but I kept dancing. Feeling weak and tired, I saw my blood touch my mother, the Earth. Then, the four winds told me it was time to fly, so I stretched out my arms, leaped off the pole, and turned into an eagle. I flew towards my mother, the Earth, and landed asleep in her arms.
When I woke, I was in Atzi’s arms. I heard music, and I saw Itotia dancing. I realized I was home among my brothers and sisters, the moon, stars, and sun. My father, the Sky, says my sacrifice brought life to my mother, the Earth, and maíz to the people. It also earned me happiness and love for eternity. For all our existence, Itotia pleases my father, the Sky, when he dances, and when me and Atzi kiss, it rains, and when we touch, it thunders.
When We Speak
Before the conquest, hundreds of native languages thrived. So, when we speak indigenous languages, we keep the culture of our ancient ancestors alive.
Beatings were given to Mexican children for speaking Spanish in Texas segregated schools. So, when we speak Spanish, we honor our ancestors who kept the language going despite abusive fools.
Manifest Destiny brought a new identity that didn’t include being brown or speaking Spanish. Even when our ancestors spoke English, they were viewed as immigrants/outsiders, but they didn’t get rid of them. They didn’t vanish!
Today, English and Spanish are a part of our culture. We mix them, and some call it broken/inferior. But when we speak Spanglish, I call it Brown/beautiful/Chicano, something superior.
When we speak our languages, we claim our culture; we claim what’s ours, and like our ancestors, when we speak, there’s power.
Mexica Tiahui!
Johnie Guerra is a Mexican American from Texas whose poetry reflects pride in Chicano identity and shines a light on Chicano history. His poetry employs English, Spanish, Spanglish, and Native languages and incorporates ancient Mesoamerican beliefs. His work seeks to reveal what it means to be Chicano in the twenty-first century United States.