Poem:: Not My Mother’s Daughter

Syncopated rhythms over conga beats, I saunter in the footprints of men and women of generations passed. Dissecting myself a cadaver, open and free. From the bomba y la plena, from the sugar cane factories to the bench of the Supreme Court, we… have come a long way. Having studied many times The marble which was chiseled out for me— By the calloused hands of … Continue reading Poem:: Not My Mother’s Daughter