Like in a shroud of nopal she exists within the confines of the people,
To and from, history to the future lies her footprint for a better day.
A distant star propels her will and intrepid appeal soothes the oppressed in her path to freedom.
Dialectics remains her lantern which cuts deep canyons into the jungle of despair illuminating the mysterious and unseen.
I see her hand through the concrete pillars of occupation bathed in a glow of fluorescent light, leaking from the cuts it has endured from the miles of razor wire.
Her voice traveling from history defies the relations of production in its tone, it is a roar that discards any trace of bribery and which the chains of patriarchy have no chance.
Her demands have always been for justicia throughout history and continue to ignite this call into the future, a future where infant Brown fists rise out of the fields strapped on the backs of young mothers, of the youth pried out of the claws of criminalization.
Without her marching side by side the path becomes obscured and cold, and so we continue in sync with the boundaries of existence merely being a physical aspect of today's social reality, a manifestation of occupation that the girl from history has seen rise and fall in her perpetual march through history.