Maquila  Zoned Out

Crushing

Barely begins to capture

The weight of the grief

That sits

Mountain sized

Upon my soul

As a departing visitor to

El Paso/Ciudad Juarez

A land of divides

Rich and poor

Brown and white

Citizen and not

Identities crafted

By powerful attitudes in

Custom and law

Citizens also

Who are ignorant and not

Of the ironic embrace

Of the dizzying pace

of the twin plants’

patterned

economic growth

In one more city seduced

By the dream of

The “package deal” of boom trade

Maquila zones of prosperity

That have forged in this part of the world

Paths that die in the desert

Surrounded by silently

Weeping mountains

El paso a la muerte

Danger

Danger

Danger

To Women 

Young and old

Victims both

One kind to the violence

By men who stalk them

For inhabiting the young female body

Their mothers and fathers equal victims of the

Tragedy and horror of losing a daughter sister wife to

sexual terrorism

Assaulted by haunting images of

A loved one’s last few

Hours and minutes of

A stolen life

And of a youthful beauty

Tortured

Maimed

Raped

And brutally burned

And killed

Meanwhile my own

Image of silent screaming

And wanton abduction

Occurring in the day or night

Is permanently etched in my  tired

And frightened mind

I find myself suspiciously staring

At presumed terrorists

Inhabiting male bodies

And directing my silent

Raging stares

At clean bodies

And suited men in elegant ties

The other terrorists

I charge

Those capable of crippling

Governments and countries

With an offer to sign here

On the dotted line

And welcome to free trade

Licentious trade

The wonders of working

Your poorest citizens into legal slavery

And sending their children

Into early graves

Yes

The indifferent terrorist

Selling his country’s and

His company’s wares

His cheap wages

To a cheapened and

Once loved culture

Of safety and simplicity

We once knew in Old Mexico

The Mexico he only sees through

The lenses of ancient class divisions

And bigotry

The Mexico one President

Must salvage from international shame

While the other curries favor

To the immigrant labor he must

At once welcome in his own country and blame

Yes these are the terrorists

Fighting global wars

Pressuring nations with

Candy bars and iron sticks

Never stopping to think

Oh not at all

Of the part they play

Big or small

In this nightmare of a time

To be a woman and to be living and working

On the border

In the horror chambered

Export processing zone

Elegant terrorists who with their complacency have violated spaces of privacy

Corners of safety

Valleys of desire, need and despair

The terrorist in a blue suit checking into fancy hotels

Holding business meetings aimed at neighborly mutual profit as they ignore the symbols of poverty knocking at the door

Never to be made part of the conversation

Other than to ask for

Another clean towel

On which to wipe the

Dainty sweat of working

Hard to ignore

The chant and plaintive cry of the young dead women’s families

Who ask but Why?

Who demand that all that could  be done

Will be done

When a woman welcomed

To be their workers

Might be honored

And reclaimed in spirit and name

If not in her rotting remains

By the man in that thousand dollar suit

Who helped to recruit

Her innocence and her labor

Her lethal trust and confidence

For a cheap little wage that to her

Was a small liberation from

Poverty and despair

When in fact iit sent her

Daily walking to a factory to and fro until one day

Approaching it

Or headed home  

She was met

By bloodthirsty

Depravity who drove

Her to a desert

And the Palace of Crime

Erected in the devil’s playground

In Ciudad Juarez’

Exploit and murder

processing zone.

El Paso, TX 4/27/02