By: Stanley Fong
I was walking on the road to
Nirvana when
I saw the white sands of the
waters of the Borinquen.
What great palm trees!
What lovely eyes the moon
has!
Will you be free from the
pollution of tyranny?
The twilight waves under the
moon swayed with the rhythm of the night,
And I dropped my empty
bottle onto the sand.
(I will pick it up later,
Must not litter and tarnish
the beauty of Nature.)
As I walked slowly into the
water,
My mind’s eye danced back in
my memory of a time long ago:
The boat friends
Corona Smirnoff, the lack of lies only truth close friends fun the wish that
the moon will always stay full as we danced under its gaze.
My aching heart tells my mind’s eye to stop.
There must be other memories, those that will not
make my heart ache for the ones I love.
These are the same waves I have seen as I grew up,
The chino learning the como estas and the buen
provechos.
I am still the chino learning.
I still need to grow up.
And now I love mofongo and alcapurrias.
My mind’s eye dances back to me again.
The ocean breeze envelopes me again,
These are the winds that Columbus felt when he first
landed on our shores.
If he really did, I know not.
Did he see the majestic palm trees and weep?
Did he hold the sand in his hands and demand who made
such beauty?
I already know the answer.
And so did the people who walked on these sands for
centuries before Columbus came, and knew the truth behind the sound of the
coqui, and the angry god who made the huracanes.
But these people are no more, victims to the Spanish
musket, the church, and the dirty white man.
I am not a dirty white man, so I do not feel any
guilt,
I can walk on this sand and wade into these waters,
And not have the blood of a people tainting my soul.
As I walk back to the shore I cannot help but wonder,
If a young taino
long ago was walking on the road to Nirvana, stopped at this shore, and exclaim
that he had finally found it?