To whom it may concern:

 

These green eyes

Know more story than one

From Bio Bay to blue bricked streets of Old San Juan

Tourists in cheap guayaberas snapchat their Piña Coladas and Rum

Dancing awkwardly to salsa and screaming that they are

Having,like, so much fun

 

But, all I can do,  is watch from TV

My people

Still waiting for FEMA blue tarp roof

Still waiting for power

Still waiting for running water

Still waiting for Hope to return

I see grandma crying.

 

On travel brochures, they’ll tell you no passport required

While our president, undesired and uninspired,

Throws paper towels into devastated and tired

And, I still see grandma crying

 

They erect brand new resorts so you forget the stolen land

Where you stand

Claw machine hands grip colonial prize

They fill our ears with soft ribbons of deceit

Help is coming

But, for fuck’s sake, her sister is dying

 

And I can’t help this guilt silence

But my tongue can’t speak the island’s

Grandma I’m sorry

 

She says “You look just like my father”

And these green eyes water

I watch the island that birthed me

Be plagued by negligence and mass emigration

To the land that promises to end sorrow and starvation

Grandma has stopped crying

 

I see all

And these green eyes do not forget

They reflect lush jungle and sounds of coqui

I wear my boricua skin proudly, bet

And Grandma knows I’m coming for that racist neck