Rio Grande y Bravo By Edward Vidaurre

I hear your whispers,
It’s not the wind speaking anymore,
it’s your longing and your spirit
in the leaves, in the ripples, in the razor teeth of separation

Entre tierra mojada, the scent of mud
that brings me to you, the birdsong that makes its way to us from across two lands that share the same language of the heart that brings me to you,

Rio Grande, Rio Bravo
The hope of a new people
the baptism of the new mestiza, nepantlera

We hear the echoes of pain and struggle and we also hear the chants of “si de puede! Y Aqui nos quedamos”

Rio Grande,  Rio Bravo

It’s not the wind speaking anymore
It’s the water

It’s the water
It’s not the wind speaking anymore

Rio Grande, Rio Bravo

We hear the echoes of pain and struggle and we also hear the chants of “si de puede! Y Aqui nos quedamos”

The hope of a new people
the baptism of the new mestiza, nepantlera

Rio Grande, Rio Bravo

Entre tierra mojada, the scent of mud
that brings me to you, the birdsong that makes its way to us from across two lands
that share the same language of the heart that brings me to you,

It’s not the wind speaking anymore,
it’s your longing and your spirit
in the leaves, in the ripples, in the razor teeth of separation

I hear your whispers