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lyrics

(Come back alive.)

Foreign and familiar, there is sadness
in his eyes when he looks in the mirror.

There are no gods to save such a
beast of burden, such a
half human. A hybrid. Nor does he
care for their propaganda.

(Sometimes the things you see in the shadows
are more than just shadows.)

Instead,
his sadness sighs before him because
he knows so little of his ancestors,
of the past that cultivated him.

He is from somewhere else.

(Come back, alive.)

He places his fingers on the craters of his face;
Searches for footprints left behind by his great
and not-so-great grandparents.

The Iberian,
the Brit,
the Italian,
who took to the seas for promise
of riches in the Americas.

The Africans from a continent impaled
and gutted by the very same men who searched
for El Dorado’s gold.

And the Amerindian women whose legs
were forced open, because with “savages,”
when the holy book did not civilize,
every kind of purifying means was justified.

His beard bites at his fingers, as if walking
on a sheet of nails. He’s careful to not apply
too much pressure. He fears what
he will discover in his blood if pricked
and the scars reopen.

Hunched, his Emberá Katío eyes
wander across the map of his face,
seeking lost tribes.

(Come back alive.)

credits

from Hir​ˌ​ī​th​(​Ē​)​Ə, released March 31, 2022
Lyrics and audio design by Julián Esteban Torres López
Performed by Julián Esteban Torres López

_"Seeking Lost Tribes," audio and words originally published in The Soul In Space, Issue 2.

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Julián Esteban Torres López Kailua Kona, Hawaii

Julián Esteban Torres López, a divergent polymath and multi-hyphenate artist, explores how we engage with, make sense of, heal from, and transform the nature-nurture of being. His trauma-informed creations and expressions examine heritage and existential concerns with care and nuance through a decolonial prism. ... more

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