Claudia Arzuaga Pacheco
Programa de Estudios Interdisciplinarios
Facultad Humanidades, UPR RP
Recibido: 21/02/2025; Revisado: 23/05/2025; Aceptado: 29/05/2025
Show me the ways in which
my country and I
are not the same
and I will show you the color of my blood.
Red
the shade of three stripes on our proud flag.
The light blue of the seas and skies,
my favorite color, so similar to my lover's eyes.
A star alone but bright
standing strong amidst
disputes and fights
and lastly, white, the way my curls will turn
when I’m old
still here
in my holy home.
My green voice parrots back our history
so my brother will not forget
the coquí song
similar to the anthem on my tongue,
my left fist fearlessly raised.
We remain.
While hurricanes blow past
demolishing the place we celebrate mass.
Another inch of land sold
developed and destroyed, tearing apart
one more piece of my soul
but I stand here today
like El Yunque,
back straight,
my hands may shake
yet here I stay.
Born amidst the sun and rain
heat and waves
made from Puerto Rican clay;
the labor of my mother's womb
which later birthed her pain.
Our country is not for sale.
Our language has not gone stale.
My skin is not yet pale.
Death is not strong enough
to release me from this.
My hope and desire, the gist
of poems and songs for the choir.
My very spirit tied to the river
roots growing and seeping
with hungry ambition.
I will haunt our patch of land—
floating, heavenly, a hundred by
thirty-five, its people not good
at following the tyrant's commands—
until the chains are finally broken
and we stop being a token
oh Borikén
until freedom is finally awoken
and your native name is largely spoken.