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
