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Through My Eyes Blog shares the Poetry of Denise Trevizo, a Latina in the United States Inspired by her Natal Land.

Born in the U.S., raised in Mexico, and her adult life in Canada, Denise Trevizo has an innate poetry talent shared through her blog "Through My Eyes."

Like a chameleon, Denise Trevizo had to lower her guard to fit in in static societies, finding out that being an outsider allowed her to share to the world what she saw as the spectrum we live in, in the North American continent.

Denise shared her story with Espiritu as she became a true believer of Espiritu's social project. She mentioned that huaraches are her every day shoe, they remind everyone where she comes from, and that, regardless of her light skin, she advocates for the people and land that taught her the humbleness lifestyle she chose to share to the world.

In picture, Denise Trevizo stand up poetry show in Austin with Dream huarache sandals.

Tú hogar

Home

Where are you from?
Where is home? 

For the longest time,
that question made me wonder,
really, where is home?

Although,
I was born in the desert of Arizona, 
I am sure not from this,
consumerist society.
Looking at their confused culture and 
unable to recognize their story,
makes me wonder if they even know,
where are they from?

But,
back to my home,

I was raised in the land of
the pies ligeros,
The land of the Tarahumara,
The biggest state,
of the majestic Mexico,

The place that gave me my accent, 
That one, 
which is recognized,
as soon as I open my mouth,
that lights up a room.

Chihuahua, 
and please don’t tell me like the dog, 
because you will find,
the largest desert in this,
so-called new world.

Surrounded by cerros, 
the sky dresses with the most beautiful sunsets,
my eyes have ever seen.

There is no such red and orange,
that dances above us,
the way that it does,
in my beloved Chihuahua.

Humbleness all around, 
that when the clouds cry
over the dry land,
the soil perfumes its surroundings,
with the most delightful scent, 
that I am sure you haven't smelled.

But I left what was my home,
I left more than a decade ago.

So, 
home huh,

We have given it a meaning,
that must be touched,
that must be felt,

With a smell,
that brings back memories, 
that makes you happy,
that makes you safe.

But I can’t even recall,
in how many pillows,
my head has rested,
Or the countless beds,
in which I’ve crawled on my left side.

I’ve come and go, 
Nomad,
I’ve been called,

 I’ve come and go,

Christmas in Guatemala, 
Easter in Texas, 
Birthday in Alberta, 
And please don’t make me forget, 
about the long and lonely winter,
in the Midwest.

Here and there,
That’s what my friends said,
Carelessly living life,
How mistaken they were.

Some of those roads
were taken for pleasure,
most were taken for need.

But let me tell you where home is.

Home has always been in me, 
home is in the center.

Home is within you.
Home is in the beating drum,
that keeps you alive.

In the warm sensation,
inside your chest.
In the long breath,
that unlocks the tightness,
on your heavy neck.

Home is in the relief,
on your closed eyes,
after they’ve seen so much.

Home is inside this borrowed body,
that one day we will return, 

So,
For you, 
The sweet gaze that looks at these words,

My wish for you,
is that your home is at peace.
That is content with what it has,
and who is with,

Because you know,
who knows,
when will the soft breeze,
will unite us,
with our true home once more.

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