No luck in seeing a golden era,

only the tarnished aftermath.

Should I mourn you?

Should I stand up to fight?

I weep for you, Mexico.

I wish I’d seen the country my parents saw;

to have lived in that once beloved place.

Before violence ruled,

but it wasn’t so.

I weep for you, Mexico.

Missing children, missing parents

missing friends, missing lives.

Blood is flowing in the streets,

yet no one bats an eye.

I weep for you, Mexico.

The squares are filled with indignation

the masses have risen up!

Angry voices roaring out!

But just as quickly they’re silenced,

with no evidence in sight.

I weep for you, Mexico.

Why are the traitors called heroes?

And the broken and oppressed

have death waiting at their door

for being in the wrong place?

Bullets don’t know the difference.

I weep for you, Mexico.

“The youth own the future!”

Daily marches in the plazas

but behind your protest signs,

all I see are sunken eyes.

Another day unrecognized.

I weep for you, Mexico.

You can’t buy me with poison,

or your television sets.

I have a brain! I can think for myself!

I want to vote for change,

but do I even have the option?

I weep for you, Mexico.

“Revolución! Fuera el Presidente!”

Streets are crowded with laments

all over a plant and white powder.

Lost in a web of corruption

looking for a lifeline.

But if history has taught me anything,

it’s that we’ve never had a chance.

I weep with you, Mexico.

Photo courtesy of Flickr user Gabriel Saldana