Intimate Traveler Poem by Javier Zamorano

With you I write in
darkness.
We have been
intimate travelers
drawn together
by an intimate voice.

Together we have
suffered in the
midst of hate
unknowing the
parallel of our fate.

I hear and I
feel
the story's
of fallen warriors
our fallen warriors.
And today the
Renaissance of chicanismo.

A brother of mine,
a warrior,
walked into a auto shop.
He spoke with a oppressed,
beautiful language.
He walked in a tired pair of sneakers
that have been to Mexico and back.
Carrying gifts of roses.
He says affably, ''Buenos Dias'',
my brother warrior.
And for the first time
I understand the
beauty of a rose.