MADRE COATLIQUE EN JUAREZ

A POEM BY ALMA LUZ VILLANUEVA

“For generations, sadly, the mother who wanted to engender

esteem in herself and her offspring needed the very qualities

that were expressly forbidden to her: vehemence, fearlessness,

and fearsomeness.” Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Ph.D.*

 

Listen. My skull

rattle skirt as I

pass by. The rattle

in my hand, life, death,

 

life, death, rain,

listen. Where I walk,

where I dance, the

dead spring to life,

 

each girl, young

woman, a tender

flower, a spiky

flesh tearing cactus.

 

Listen. As I pass,

how their spirits

sing, “Madre Coatlique,

I am born again,

 

I am not here,

do not mourn me

here, I am flesh

made new, Madre

 

Coatlique.” Listen.

My skull rattle skirt,

the rattle in my hand

brings life, death, rain,

 

 

and to the men who took

precious life, a curse

on their line for seven

generations. Listen. A

 

blessing to those

with courage

to heal it. Listen.

Thunder, lightning, skull rattle,

 

rain.

*       *       *       *

Listen. I want my

daughters, granddaughters,

to know how to (ancient

martial arts) break the

 

trachea, push bone

into brain, their life

giving, death giving

hands. I want them

 

to know they hold

life/death in their hands,

to fight for the Self

is sacred. To fight

 

for their children is

always sacred. To wield

a sword, a knife (carry it),

sacred. Listen.

*       *       *       *

You were born from the

sweet darkness of

my womb, the journey

of my pain, vagina.

 

 

I do not ask for

respect, I claim

  1. I am your warrior

ancestor, Madre Coatlique.

 

Thunder,

lighting,

skull rattle.

Rain.

 

Listen.

 

 

To the hundreds of raped, tortured, murdered

girls, young women, of Juarez, Mexico,

that they may begin the dance of Madre

Coatlique, the ancient Goddess.

Alma Luz Villanueva

San Miguel, de Allende, Mexico 2012

 

*From the marvelous, wise book-

Women Who Run With The Wolves.

 

This poem is featured in ‘GRACIAS’ by ALMA LUZ VILLANUEVA

 

Artwork © SOPHIA DEMETRIOU

 

Emma SapersteinComment