IS this my pride or just my flag?
How can I develop pride for these colors when I don’t know the history behind them?
How can I be a proud full owner of a title I don’t understand? Who am I then? What kind of diluted sentiments are they?
How can I believe in the one stared flag that waves over my country?
A country I call my own, who was never own by those who put a stake to belong?
Do I know who own the mountains, the sun, the yucas and yautias? No, I don't.
My tainos are gone, they said goodbye to freedom and hello to the mirror image the African came to endure.
Do I know the stories of those who don’t sing or dance any longer?
No I don't. A new civilization came and changed our names, gave us new gods and once again our music, drums, and voices were silenced. The voices of the ones stripped from their homes,the ones called savages, the ones taken as slaves, brutalized and raped.
The ones who were substituted by a darker skin, substituted by that man taken from afar, the ones stripped of their identity, their religion, their home, and their hopes. And then we became one, Tainos and Africans, Africans and Tainos.
Al son de los tambores que repican en la distancia se baila la plena y la bomba.
It can be heard the tears of a nation making rivers and oceans, mountains and valleys; with the screams in the distance for freedom, justice and equality.
Freedom from the harsh hands, equality to be like we are meant to be, and what we know we need to become.
The voice of Luis Pales Matos, Albizu Campos, and Ramon Celso de Barbosa were the men who gave the Island nation a reason and a voice that could be heard in the fight for freedom. Not only with arms but also with the pen, with the intelligence, and gracefulness of a panther who awaits patiently for the right moment to pounce.
Is that Revolution, that revolt, that will become the beat on the drum that fuels the fire for freedom once more.