Madre Mia
by Jose Zapata Calderon

Where were you going, Madre Mia
          When you took me out of the Mountains of Madera
To the urban barrios of Juarez?

Were you looking for a better
Life for our familia?

Where were you going, Madre Mia
          When you crossed that border
Holding my hand ---
          And reaching out to my
Padre, Joaquin
          Who was working long hours
To raise funds, along with my Aunts and Uncles
          To bring us here –
To the East Side of the Tracks in Colorado --
          Where, although we had little money,
You taught me to express and practice
          The meaning of sharing and caring
For others.

Remember how we would
          Gather the logs –
And chop them into
          Kindling for our wood stove –
Do you remember, Madre Mia,
          How you would always be
Doing for the familia –
          Cleaning, Working in the garden,
Making meals –
          And how you taught me
To pray to San Martin De Porres.
          A Black saint who offered
His life to the poor –
          Do you remember, Madre Mia?

Perhaps that is where I got
          This burning passion inside
To use all the abilities and energies
          I possess – to build a better world.

Where were you going, Madre Mia
          When the beet rows got too long
For your tired hands
          And your eyes tripped through the
Darkness?

You found the way
          Along with my Father
You found the way
          To keep me in school
To lead me along
          To point the way

All that I am
          Has its roots in your warmth, love,
And Sacrifice.

As your health failed you –
          You came to live with us in California
And we were blessed with
          Your stubbornness, your laughing smile.

There were so many times
          That you wanted to go home –
"Ya me voy, Ya es tiempo de irme,"
          You would say.

Although your memory could not
          Quite tell you where you
Wanted to go,
          You knew that California
Was not your home.

In your last days, you repeated
          To me, "Ya es tiempo de irme."
And now – I know where you have been –
          And how far you have come.

You are back home in the East Side Barrio
          Of Colorado now, Madre Mia
Where your friends are—
          Where you don’t have to suffer anymore.

The rows are not so long now –
          And, Madre Mia, I know that
You can see more than life has to give.

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