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In the metate

My tireless grandmother

Ground

Ajo, tomate, chile, y cebolla

With every deft pounding of the molcajete

Did she

Lovingly

Pound into my heart, soul, and blood

The sorrows and struggles

Joys and triumphs

Of my people

Los indios y los mestizos

Para mi gente mi corazon sonrie

For my people my heart smiles


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