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
- 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