You were once so young, rich in resources and thriving soil. No one dared to enter your lands, scared of the secrets you held. But once the ruthless men who gave themselves the title of “explorers” from across the vast sea poked their flags into my blanket of untouched fields, I knew it wouldn't be long until they came for you.
They brought nothing but blood and vicious wars that tore apart your land; the land I used to envy so much. The air you took in with each breath no longer tasted like the same air as the eagles up above with no limits of liberty. Once again you had turned despondent, ashamed of who you let control you. Ropes from across the sea tied you down, more restricted than ever before. It was only a matter of time until the ropes became so tight that they brust. In great admiration, I watched as your people wiggled out from under an iron fist and declared their sovereignty. And for that, I’ve always thought highly of you. I think that is what inspired me as well.
You welcomed in thousands of dreamers, looking for anything better than what they had left behind. With nothing but clothes on their back and children in their arms, you promised them a new beginning. Their levels of desperation did not take much to fulfil and yet they felt as if they owed you everything in return for the American dream you provided.
I noticed that you never slept. You didn’t get a peaceful rest anymore. Even when all was dark, your heart pounded with burning aspiration that only ventured forward. Your lands began to glisten through the darkness, an irresistible sight for anyone who could afford to see it. And soon, the higher you rose the deeper I began to sink. I cried for your help but my tears were not heard. Or maybe you did hear me, you just chose to ignore my agitation. You built a stronger divide. A barrier so tall that my people could no longer hop. I lost sight of you and became too engaged in my own self-interest to notice what was assembling.
Lately I’ve been exhausted. Shaking, hiding, anticipating everything that’s yet to come. My people are struggling to stay above the ground and I have nothing left to provide them. I can see them screaming, holding onto their children with trembling hands because that’s all they have left. I thought I could always count on you to support me, but your icy embrace has cast a shadow that has let me down. Not only have you refused to extend out a hand, you have spat my children out against my grounds as if they are worthless to you.
They don't deserve this treatment. They were the ones who established your foundations that you seem to praise so religiously, and now they are calling for you. Take a moment to hear what they are asking for.
The Cultivating Lands Of Mexico