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González's poetry is a collection of pensamientos manifested through socially and politically conscious palabra reflecting the social memory of his gente. As a Chicano poet, González feels the responsibility to transmit the knowledge that he has received from relatives, friends, elders, and through my studies, to future generations.
Poemas/Literatura Revoltosa VERSOS PA’ FAVELA Ofrezco estos versos a tí y al viento Lamentos, lágrimas y rostros contentos recordando los buenos momentos cuando los hacías reir con tus anecdotas y cuentos Profe serás recordado por haber cambiado futuros con tu legado Filosofía, serigrafía vida en poesía a todo color Palabras de calor de tus acciones brotaban y alentaban hacía una vida mejor para uno y los suyos Cultura y orgullo transmitía tu alma de bronce que sin esperar nada a cambio cambió mi rumbo hacía al del guerrero que en vez de armas utiliza el corazón y el alma en campos de batallas donde se cambian mentes Y en los surcos hayas sabiduría popular o sea "del pueblo y para el pueblo" esa frase viviste soñaste y respiraste y por medio de tu arte propagaste el pensamiento antiguo de nuestros ancestros y no necesitaremos al Día de Los Muertos para recordar tu memoria porque al salir el sol tu escencia humilde y sencilla recordaremos con alegría y daremos gracias al Gran Espíritu por habernos dejado compartir ratos contigo nuestro gran amigo Favela, de Chicano a Chicano gracias por todo mi hermano! Xico González C/S Dinuba, Califaztlán July 18, 2007
El Viejo By Xico González C/S 2006
El Viejo, the old man was sitting on sacred land, the land of his ancestors. The land that saw one of the greatest civilizations of this continent in times now past. He sat around selling pottery that he created with his wrinkle, earth color hands. His face was hidden under his sombrero, but you knew that his features resemble those of the ceramic piece that was next to him. His tired hands molded clay into beautiful artwork, day in and day out, just as his ancestors did. As I past him in my visit to Teotihuacán, I turned left and there he was, I felt attracted to his persona and went to talked to him. He spoke in a slow but deep voice, a voice full of knowledge. At that moment, I became aware that his work was his life and his livelihood. I fell in love with his artwork, because I saw the Viejo in it. I decided to buy a couple of pieces to bring back to the United States. I thought that by buying them and bringing them back, I would bring back a piece of old Mexico with me. As I did the transaction, I handed the Viejo a few dollars and at that moment our hands touched, and I felt his energy and spirit. El Viejo wasn’t always old; he used to be a young man. He learned how to work the earth from his father, just as his father did from his. I heard a voice whispering “Vengo de una familia de artesanos” (I come from a family of artisans). At one point his family worked as a collective, creating artwork in a style that went back to the time where there were no Europeans around. The earth has always been sacred to el Viejo and his people, and they molded it with love into artifacts that had a function. When he was a young man he left his land and clay and made a journey to El Norte, to the north, to the United States. That happened in the 1940s, when the United States was engaged in World War II. During that time, the United States imported Mexican workers to work in the fields, to work the earth. Those workers became known as Braceros, which loosely translates into "the ones with arms." It is ironic that he left his land to work the land again, but the Indigenous peoples of Mesoamerica believed in the circle of life, the circle of faith and el Viejo was bound to the earth. We shared that bound; my parents came up north looking for a better life and ended up working the earth with their hands. At the beginning we did not speak, but our touching of hands said a thousand words. El Viejo looked into my eyes and said in Spanish, “It is good you came back to the land of your ancestors mi’jo, see what they created with their bare hands.” His soft voice sounded familiar, like I’d heard it before, but did not know where. I responded “yes, it is beautiful here.” He said, “Close your eyes and feel the energy that radiates from the pyramids.” I closed my eyes and heard the birds and felt a strong connection with that place. The Viejo said “Do you feel it?” I answer, “Yes, it feels like I have been here before.” He said “You have, every night when you dream, you come to this place.” Somehow I believed him, because everything seemed very familiar. I felt a strong connection to that sacred place and to el Viejo, but at the same time I felt afraid. He then told me, “Look around mi’jo, this is your land. When you walk around this city you will remember your ways. Climb the pyramids and face the four directions, the earth and the sun. Acknowledge the sacredness of this place, called Teotihuacán, the place where the gods met to create the earth and you will be home again.” As I walked away from el Viejo, I left with a plate engraved with the Aztec Sun and a figure that represented Huehueteotl, the old god of fire. I climbed the Pyramid of the Moon and the Pyramid of the Sun and at the peak of both pyramids I felt the energy that the Viejo had talked about. I faced the four directions, the sun and the earth, and at that moment Teotihuacán and I became one. At the top of the Pyramid of the Sun, where the male energy resides, I had a vision of me making pottery with my strong earth color hands and at that moment I realized that the Viejo was in fact Huehueteotl, the old god of fire disguised as an earthly old man. He had appeared to bring me closer to my Indigenous roots and fulfill my destiny as an artist, child of the earth and the sun. As I came to my realization of whom the old man really was, my alarm clock rang.
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