The Pecan Tree, Uvalde Texas

 

More than half a century ago, 

George, a Mexican American teacher,

believed beauty was the birthright 

 of every child,

 and basketball courts belonged 

in every school, not just Anglo ones.

More than half a century ago 

George, a Mexican American

fifth grade teacher recognized  

that chipped paint, 

crumbling walls,  

and broken toilets dulled  

the reflection  of brown eyed

brown skinned  students,  

sabotaging their innocence, 

scuttling their dreams.

More than half a century ago, 

George, a brown-skinned,

Mexican American,

fifth grade teacher 

planted me in a barren schoolyard 

to offer beauty, hope and shelter 

to the families in his care.

As I grew, so did the brightness 

in the brown eyes 

of the beautiful children,  

beautiful teachers,

and beautiful families of Uvalde.

Now I stretch my arms 

to console  their broken, 

sorrowing hearts, 

but no canopy  stretches 

wide enough  to comfort 

the rightful rage and ravaging grief, 

of beautiful children, 

beautiful families,

beautiful people 

maligned and mistreated 

by a broken, hollow-hearted world.