Burque Summer Solstice

Summertime heat creates
mirages off the asphalt,
playing tricks on our eyes.
Burque and her secrets
are whispered on the wind
when we listen.

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Paletas and sticky smiles
on the faces of mocosos
running free without a care for the heat.

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The elders know where to find escape
from the hot Zia sun.

The river finds her
home in the bosque,
where we can find solace,
solitude,
and silence
in the middle of a bustling
metropolis.
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Burque,
where the thirst of
the tierra
is quenched by a
late-afternoon
monsoon,
sun shining through the raindrops
like diamonds.
Precious gems of our memories,
the smell of rain,
flashbacks of puddle jumping.

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We celebrate the rain in the desert
like a long-lost friend
returning home.
The streets shine
new and clean
after the flood recedes,
but our parents still
tell the children of
La Llorona
to keep us safe
and away from the deadly
ditches,
Arroyos and acequias that carry
our dreams to irrigate
The milpas in the south valley,
growing the same
corn, beans, and squash.
The three sisters
that were introduced to our ancestors
long ago.
The acequias
carry dreams to quench the thirst
and feed us until our panza llena
and our corazón is contento.

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While dragonflies dance
in the amber light of
sunset,
Burque,
so full of history
and culture,
inviting,
welcoming
with pride,
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orgullo.
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As our skies
as big as our imaginations
hold clouds like floating cathedrals
or carry hot-air balloons 
on a crisp morning,
listening to KABQ
while we clean house,
two-stepping with a broom
to Tiny Morrie, Al Hurricane,
or Manny and the Casanovas
New Mexico Music!
Born and bred
like calabacitas
with corn and green chile
or homemade tortillas.
Alburquerque,
where we honor traditions and history, 
sage smoke,
and Chimayó red chile.

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Fishing at Tingley Beach
early in the morning
before the ducks wake up.
Burque is who we were.
It’s who we are.
It’s the legacy we pass on to our children.
Like cruising Central,
Old Route 66,
on a Sunday afternoon
in a 1963 Chevy,
original and clean!
playing oldies,
those oldies that remind us of how far we’ve come.
Cruising all the way to South Valley gardens
growing community
underneath our Zia sun,
blazing in the sky.

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We celebrate each other’s
food
music
dance
heartbeat
drumbeat
sacred blessings from the creator.

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We are flamenco
and Danza Azteca,
Jingle dress
and two-step,
breakdance
and rancheras.
Our heartbeat is the rhythm
we live our lives to.
Our connection
to this land,
this mountain,
this sky!
Our collective sweat
and tears in our eyes.
Memories we share
of river water
and cottonwood trees.
A symphony of chicharras.
That hypnotizing drone
is the late-summer song
that our daydreams dance to.
In harmony we hear the crickets
take over the night.

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Our singing
with gritos that cry out to the sky!
When the sun sets behind the west mesa,
and the Sandias ripen
for that brief fleeting moment
before it gets dark,
our pink mountains’ majesty
holds us in her arms.
Another night in the Duke city,
and our jitos and jitas
are safe and sleeping.
The viejitas say their prayers
and light their candles,
and another Albuquerque summer is laid to rest
to become memories and stories,
the stories we all share
as Burquenos!