Un Muchacho De Mi Edad

At fourteen, he bought that backpack
with a picture of Che
and learned that freedom
is something to strive for.
Che died clear and whole
like a ray of light
and hope filled his backpack
with songs from the South.

There's a boy who looks back
and remembers who he was
with his paper to exercise the right
he has to believe
and that boy now thinks that finally
what was is over,
the clarity didn’t exist in the country
where the kid grew up.

And he’s my age
and has the color of my voice,
so close to me
that he could be me.

That boy grew up not knowing
that in his narrow country
singing wasn’t allowed, but someone sang
just because.
Because life is a gift that shouldn’t
bring us pain,
a gift for all genders
and tribes of the sun.

And he wonders if it’s no longer possible
to find the truth,
if in the impurity we lost the trail
of honesty,
the clarity, the good ideas
that he once thought
were the foundation of every speech
and every song.

And he’s my age
and has the color of my voice,
so close to me
that he could be me.