jenny cares 

The Wise Latina
by Efrén Paredes, Jr.
.
Saturday morning,
protected by the colossal frontal columns
of the nation's Supreme Court
that were once like prison bars
seeking to lock you out of its halls —
before the blinding glare
of flashing cameras
bouncing off adorned walls
absent any images celebrating
your likeness —
there you stood,
the Wise Latina.
.
Your confirmation hearing
the true identity politics,
the underpinnings of tilted scales,
an indictment of a racist patriarchal system
that stains justice
with its misogynist ways.
.
Opponents clamored to defame you,
attempted to relegate you
to a footnote in history,
dismissing you
as a child of affirmative action,
as another marginalized brown face,
like the ones they built the wall
along the Mexican border to keep out.
.
Somebody forgot to tell them
affirmative action
didn't do your homework,
didn't graduate you summa cum laude from Princeton,
didn't edit the Yale Law Journal for you,
didn't make difficult choices
or bequeath you wisdom.
.
Your strength and poise made us proud
as we were fixated to television screens
at viewing parties
in skyscrapers and barrios,
inspired by your courage,
displaying your buttons and posters,
watching you deflect
the barrage of attacks
you bravely endured
to become the nation's
111th U.S. Supreme Court Justice.
.
The eyes of many Latinas y Latinos
filled with tears,
as their exuberant smiles
brightened the morning sky.
.
Your detractors never gained an advantage,
even in their failed attempts to diminish you.
They couldn't erase our illustrious past
or replace it with illusions of inferiority.
They couldn't write our Quinceañeras
or love for arroz, maíz y frijoles
out of our rich culture and heritage.
.
Carrying a legacy of struggle on your back
you transcended the tide of ignorance,
the protests and intimidation,
and rallying cries for your defeat.
The impotent Kyls, McCains and Sessions
couldn't change destiny,
they could only fulfill it.
.
It was the Wise Latina who prevailed,
who captivated the world.
Speaking loudly through your elegance
and quiet strength
you silenced your critics,
scattering them like the winds
of a fierce Summer storm.
.
At that moment
we all briefly touched the sky,
danced in the sun's warm glow,
and summoned the Ancestors
to celebrate your victory.
_________________________

Efrén Paredes, Jr. is a Michigan prisoner who has been wrongly incarcerated for over 20 years since the age of 15 for a crime he did not commit. To learn more about Efrén's case visit http://tinyurl.com/FreeEPJ. 

~-------~-------~-------~
"I have sought to inculcate in others the importance of weaving a tapestry of unity and awakening their consciousness about their intrinsic value. Through this process we can spawn perpetual growth and rescue humanity from the cycle of despair that evaporates hope."
—Efrén Paredes, Jr.
~-------~-------~-------~
Many thanks to Care2 member Cynthia D for posting this poem and further information in A.I.M.I. this morning.
~-------~-------~-------~

Asking For Roses by Robert Frost
 

A house that lacks, seemingly, mistress and master,
With doors that none but the wind ever closes,
Its floor all littered with glass and with plaster;
It stands in a garden of old-fashioned roses.
 .

I pass by that way in the gloaming with Mary;
'I wonder,' I say, 'who the owner of those is.'
'Oh, no one you know,' she answers me airy,
'But one we must ask if we want any roses.'

.
So we must join hands in the dew coming coldly
There in the hush of the wood that reposes,
And turn and go up to the open door boldly,
And knock to the echoes as beggars for roses.
 .

'Pray, are you within there, Mistress Who-were-you?'
'Tis Mary that speaks and our errand discloses.
'Pray, are you within there? Bestir you, bestir you!
'Tis summer again; there's two come for roses.

.
'A word with you, that of the singer recalling--
Old Herrick: a saying that every maid knows is
A flower unplucked is but left to the falling,
And nothing is gained by not gathering roses.'

.
We do not loosen our hands' intertwining
(Not caring so very much what she supposes),
There when she comes on us mistily shining
And grants us by silence the boon of her roses.
.