On the death of Cesar Chavez 4/23/1993

Today is Cesar Chavez’s birthday. I met Cesar a couple of times as a teenager. I celebrate his influence on me as a person. I wrote this poem about Cesar four days after he died. The original is shaped like the UFW eagle. But it is too hard to do that layout here.

On the death of Cesar Chavez 4/23/1993

so how does this mean that

there is an end or that

anything is different?

We still have a promise to keep.

We still have work to do.

Our father who art finally

away from disaster, out of

the grip of that hand

that wants to shape

everything, to twist

everything, that hand that

crushes the flowers into

a lingering fragrance, and

that thinks to make men

into mud again.

I would like to tell you

that the children will be

happy and in love with life

again and in love with

themselves.

It is the last promise

I will make.

They will live.

On my blood.

And no hand will

cover their mouths

again, and the air

will be clean, and

their eyes will be open.

And their mouths

will be unstuck,

and the ears

unstopped.

I think I can make this

promise. What life would be

worth living unless

we can make this promise?

You can sleep now.

You can dream now.

But dreaming, you still

have work to do:

Will you dream us?

And we will leave the door open

on those hot evenings in the Valley,

and while we sleep, you can always

walk in again.