ROSA MEXICANO

You know so many people and plants

and songs as pink.

You know rose, you know blush,

you know hot pink.

You’ve come across pastel pink

and even neon pink.

But have you seen my pink?

Have we met?

Are you familiar with the pink

laid by hand on table runners

and place mats?

Or the pink flowers embroidered

into clean white linen?

The pink that stains cities

and souvenirs, the pink

imported from southern lands.

I am the pink chosen by many ancestors.

I am the blazing pink

growing on vines

whose roots were unafraid of

penetrating foreign soil.

I am the bracts that thrive in

full sun or salty air

or harsh droughts.

I am the bougainvillea that

lived in my childhood home.

En mi casa.

You know, tu casa?

I am that peculiar pink,

a curious pink.

We call it, llamativo.

You know, captivating.

I am the color of my friend Frida’s clothes,

The color that inspired Ramon to

expose our neighbors to our essence.

I am the color of strength and livelihood,

the color of passion and generosity.

I am this color thanks to the

red hot hues of my mother’s soul

and the cool tone blues of my father’s voice.

I am the product of many borders crossed,

the product of two cultures

and two languages.

I am the balance of two colors.

I am not a reddened fuchsia.

I am not a blue magenta.

I am Mexican Pink.

Gusto en conocerte.