By Carmen Baca
God’s Country
Buried deep in our enchanted lands by las parteras de más antes,
Our roots sprang from the umbilical cords of our bis-bisabuelas
For centuries as each generation of Norteño antepasados was born.
They left us their lands by virtue of cherished Chicano herencia,
Gave us a lifetime of embracing a beloved existence por querencia.
The dense mountains and verdant meadows, the rivers and streams,
The acequia madre—los jardines y arboledas, livestock, wildlife
We nurture. We farm, we cut clouds, we divine water, we forecast
And plant with las cabañuelas—the old ways work best when we ask
For ayuda from those who left the land in our care for those taking over.
Ancianos guide us to help Mother Nature change her seasonal attire.
Annual trimesters of time we enjoy in moments and look back upon
Grateful for the kaleidoscope of colors as flowers turn to fruit, and
Fruit turns to harvest gold before winter white blankets the landscape.
Cycles of caring for one another: flora, fauna, our angeles, and us.
Temporal and temporary, our hold is timeless, los espíritus tell us,
We won’t leave this place either, and our history will join theirs.
Our adobe abodes, puro rasquache, a blend of their old and our new,
Como la Virgen in gramma’s upright baño, flores por donde quiera.
Or grampo’s rusted farm machinery, artsy trellises for rosa de castilla.
Collectively, we call this place God’s Country, blessed as we are
To live here. Even now, with hundreds of thousands of acres gone,
With black, flamboyant burn scars marring our vistas and our hearts,
Forcing us to relive the trauma of the largest fire in our state history,
Ignited by the guardians of the forest, charged with keeping it safe.
What’s left we keep close entre nuestros corazones y almas animadas.
We persevere, we preserve what we can, prepare for monsoon floods,
We await what comes next for what died, and we nurture what lives
On soil left lifeless, foreign, and apocalyptic for the next few decades.
Home, forever changed for our lifetimes, will thrive for those to come.
Carmen Baca taught high school and college English for thirty-six years before retiring in 2014. She is an author of six books and multiple short publications from prose to poetry in a variety of genres. As a Chicana and a Norteña native to New Mexico, she keeps her culture’s traditions alive through regionalism to prevent them from dying completely. She is a recipient of New Mexico Magazine’s 2023 True Hero award for preserving her culture through story telling. Two of her short works were nominated to Best of the Net and the Pushcart Prize also in 2023.