¿Sabías que la gente llora por muchas cosas?

 [Did you know that people cry for many things?]

Y esas lágrimas… What kind of garden will grow out of them? 

[And those tears…]

The bountiful scarcity of understanding

produces a garden of despair 

as growth comes either in a graceful burst or silent wail

that represents the rapport between two distinct peoples.

They scream for judgment

and fight for correct justice,

as they display their pride 

as mighty, tall, and sane;

while the rest of us are forced

to watch the fall in pain.

How much longer must we wait

for something we simply ask for?

My skin–mi cultura [my culture]

it wonders why, 

why color and a little bit of “hate”

separate us all 

by a matter of state.

It wants to hide,

it wants to hate,

but I will love,

and I will wait.

We gave color the power to separate us 

as we nourish the seeds of division

without hesitation,

thinking it natural.

But those weren’t fruit we were growing,

it was weeds we were sowing.

So let’s try again–

Let’s rebuild the garden,

and show them

that we are American. 

Because they

are a part of us.