For My Altar
Corre!
It is the only way you can live. So your feet
reimagine the night, they pump hard to grip the
last drops of tu tierra. The moon, it thickens very
much like the beating in your throat, illuminates,
but won’t turn you in. You are escaping– the last
emptiness in your stomach, of your ancestors.
And yet you are losing.
.
Leaving–todos behind. You tired too fast in
the desert nature of the night, your throat grew
too heavy in the thickness of your own heart.
The night becomes longer in your mouth, your
Body tired, tienes una sed tremenda. How
many more moons?
.
Corre, vive.
Only one life they said- you knew they were
wrong. The night before in your dreams were
fully bright flowers, abundant orange petals
reaching to catch more sun, more life, flor de
Cempasuchil. Blooming for the dead.
.
Tears fell in the end, hungrily you gave in to
the weight of your body, for the falling of your
self. You tear, pull at the damp strands of your
hair, tear open the world with your claws to
continue your feeding. Moaning, you feed the
night. You are both full when your spirit leaves a
body frail with weakness, stressed in its form
from hours of labor, at its constant strive
for survival until now.
.
The most full at your death…
At my altar, light me a candle with a prayer,
Bring me my flowers, feed me pan de muerto.
Tell me you won’t forget they did this to me.
Lucha, they do not take every piece of us– they
will not win. When they come collect our
bodies, remember that our spirits departed in full–
that we are so vast we occupy both worlds.
Artist Statement
I wrote this piece as an offering to my ancestors and my community in honor of Dia de Muertos. Dia de Muertos is a ceremony that honors our ancestors through the act of offering through the altar (ofrenda).
While we celebrate and mourn the dead we are also forced to remember the structural violence that led to dis-ease and untimely deaths. How many of our ancestors died due to economic violence or because of forced migration? And how many spirits are taken from us with no one next to them, because they are locked in cages or were murdered in other ways.
Through the ofrenda, we are choosing to keep our ancestors’ memories alive, and to continue fighting for them and for future generations to come. Our ancestors will not be forgotten and we will fight for their memory.
Arli Cornejal is a Nahuatl Artist invested in sacred remembering via ceremony and storytelling. She is currently based in Lenape Territory (Queens, New York).
