American Journeys::Jornadas Americanas             

  
                       
                               28 april 1993 Pullman, Wa


       dirge chicaneaux
             a canto for César . . .



                      I. keening sentiments 
                         wail, I glide into 
                         somber waves of grain 
                         in this Palouse 
                         where our faces 
                         barely exist,

                         I see you, carnal, 
                         caught within 
                         the camera angle,
                         an agile, smiling 
                         powerhouse, a brother 
                         daring the universe

                         to shelter
                         the humanity 
                         of farmfields 
                         where hungry bellies 
                         and gnarled hands 
                         dare harvest

                         America's bounteous 
                         dreams for some 
                         and horrorfilled fears 
                         for others, our people
                         bless the day
                         you came into existence,

                         César, you dared dream 
                         a humanization 
                         to be realized 
                         by a raza at the margins 
                         of this, our land in hope 
                         and our prison in reality,

                         despair was never yours, 
                         you always found a God 
                         to undergird you 
                         and the legions of farm 
                         workers sowing goods 
                         un-reapable by us . . . .

                     II. we knew you, carnal César, 
                         within Texas turnrows
                         and Arizona cottonfields,
                         along valleys in California
                         and outposts in the MidWest,

                         knew you in the plenitude
                         of Chicano Movement outcries, 
                         in the felicity of culture 
                         dancing/poeticizing the moment, 
                         felt the potent songs

                         wafting from you 
                         as you spoke of courage 
                         being a loving statement 
                         shared to stave off 
                         the murderous hands

                         of hunger, ignorance and fear, 
                         César Estrada Chávez,
                         you combatted severity and pain, 
                         left the embossment 
                         of your indomitable spirit

                         across the scapes of our humanity, 
                         we feel the loss, yet also celebrate 
                         the magic woven by your humble voice 
                         which said with passion that 
                         we shall find our meaning

                         in the measure of our will 
                         to struggle to create 
                         a humanizing world 
                         all about us, that a child 
                         need not hunger, 

                         that justice might become 
                         the song of human realization, 
                         you taught a pueblo 
                         to demand their rights, to thrive 
                         within simplicity,

                         dust lingers in the air, 
                         falls dutifully to ground, 
                         we seal the box, inter you 
                         in the earthen sod you plowed 
                         and sowed so lovingly, 

                         our eyes do water, 
                         our voices quaver, 
                         our spirits sing you flowers, 
                         carnal, tú fuiste 
                         poema en todo campo . . . .