Sip fast the nectar of the cactus
red fruit bursting with our life
burn back the glochids slowly
and suckle sweet juice of desert strife

Feet planted on adobe dust
sing to us in wailing cries
of Copala Triqui peoples
desert migrants, Mixtecan lives.

Sing to me from your metate
nopales, atole, tortilla blues
stepped down from Oaxacan valleys
to distant barrios in desert hues

Sleep child in Pueblo Doce
weave forth from backstrap loom
the cloth of Indian peoples
symbolic visions the stars the moons.