Below are the titles to some of my poems and other works. Feel free to take a look at them. If you have any constructive criticism or comments, you can e-mail me at PoetSM@Dartmouth.edu.


Heritage

by Sandra Martínez

Surrounded by pale faces
and a few dark ones
I strive to remember my identity

Smothered by Western rhetoric
and flashy music
I hardly hear the echoes of
my Aztec mothers and
my Spanish fathers

There was a time
when I had forgotten
who I was
from whom I inherited my dark, thick hair
where my brown eyes originated
where my parents were born

It took a few friends
and some enemies
to show me
to be proud
of who I am

As I enter
a world of strangers
to prove my worth
and achieve the American Dream
I will not forget
the Mestizo blood
that courses through my veins



I Am

I am Mexican-American
My mother was born in México
People refer to me as a Chicana
Because I'm not truly Mexican, or truly American

I am female
God gave me the ability to have babies
But that can't stop me from becoming a professional
Only a member of the opposite sex can do that

I am a writer
Poetry pours from my pen
Stories swim around in my head
Yet people aren't ready to read my work

I am a musician
My flute teacher makes me practice
But he also tells me how good I am
And he never forgets how much I love the music

I am an actor
Sandburg says they all want to play Hamlet
So do I
But I'll do it in my Latino theatre

I am a web surfer
Yahoo! is always on my computer screen
My web page has things I like
There are links to movie pages, flute pages and Latino resources

I am a child of the 80's
Reagan was in charge while I grew up
Now, people only remember Reaganomics
The music is what I remember

I am a moderate
Conservatives sounded good at first
The Liberals have some good ideas, too
But neither side can please me all of the time

I am a college student
They call college virtual reality
I call it a refuge, a sanctuary
But people at college keep putting me down

I am me
Deal with it

Mestizo

"Mestizo in Mexican Spanish means mixed, confused. Clotted with Indian, thinned by Spanish spume." -Richard Rodriguez

Confused?
No.
I glance in the mirror.
I know.
I pronounce my Anglicized name.
I have not forgotten.
Have you?

Mixed?
Yes,
very much so.
I am the product of a doomed marriage,
that of European modernity,
and Indian tradition.

The white man found a haven
between the legs of an Indian maiden;
she could not defend herself
against his fire and destruction.
He left her,
eventually,
to return to his white wife.
He left my mother,
and he left me,
without knowing,
without caring.

I am that child,
like many children,
the love child of a culture
ravaging another,
the child of a people
that will not die.
I am Mestizo


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