A Memoir

A Memoir

I carry you inside me, down to my roots.
And no matter how much I grow, you’ll still be here.
Even if I hide behind the mountain
and find a field full of sugarcane,
there’s no way, my moonbeam, that you could ever leave.

I carry you inside me, down to my roots.
And no matter how much I grow, you’ll still be here.
Even if I hide behind the mountain
and find a field full of sugarcane,
there’s no way, my moonbeam, that you could ever leave.

I think of every moment I’ve survived along the way,
and every second of uncertainty, every moment of not knowing—
they’re the exact threads of the fabric I carry under my skin.
That’s how I protect you—
you’re still inside me.

Woah-woah, oh-oh
Woah-woah, oh
Woah-woah, oh-oh
Oh-uh-oh, oh-oh

I carry you inside me, down to my roots.
And no matter how much I grow, you’ll still be here.
Even if I hide behind the mountain
and find a field full of sugarcane,
there’s no way, my moonbeam, that you could ever leave.

When I write your name in the white sand against a blue backdrop,
when I look up at the sky and in the cruel shape of a gray cloud, you appear—
when one afternoon I climb a high hill and look back at the past,
you’ll know I haven’t forgotten you.

Translation of the lyrics:

I keep crossing rivers, walking through jungles, loving the sun.
Every day I keep pulling thorns from deep within my heart.
At night I keep lighting dreams,
to cleanse each memory with sacred smoke.

I don’t beg for belonging. I declare it. Mexican American voices aren’t margins—we are the spine of a nation in transition. If the fate of the U.S. is shifting, let it be known: we are not shadows of history. We are its authors.

This is wonderful news! Thank you for all the work you do!