Lo Siento

Lo Siento

My father share-cropped a dry land west Texas farm
scratched out a living for a family of four
Hired braceros to hoe weeds in the summer
pull cotton in the fall
Housed twenty men in a two-room shack
with no running water, a two-burner propane grill
and army surplus blankets for beds
Convinced himself they didn’t really mind
Lo siento

He never learned their language
except si and no and andale! andale!
Shook his finger in their faces
if they rested too long
or weighed-in with too many green bolls
Lo siento

On paydays he parceled out dollar bills
and silver coins as if they were gifts
instead of hard-earned cash
for ten-hour days—no overtime
Saturday afternoons he drove the men
in the back of a pickup truck to the nearest town
where they bought food and clothes and money orders
with their sixty cents an hour
Lo siento

My father was not a bad man, only
fearful for his own survival, trying to please
the man who owned those red clay fields
He never thought about the families
who waited for their husbands, brothers, sons
Lo siento Lo siento
Por favor perdonenlo para que yo tambien lo pueda perdonar
Please forgive my father that I may forgive him too