Jacob Teran

The Same Stars My Ancestors Saw

The curiosity of the grand openness above us,

I visit the land of the Huichol, Tepehuán, Purépecha People,

The hometown of my wife and her family who I have become a part of,

Mis antepasados también vivían cerca.

It is peaceful here unlike the fast-paced world of where I was born much north of here,

Especially at night, where uncanny ancestral connections take place.

Look up and follow this revelation of a journey,

A prayer, a shared song to what is sacred,

To where we bond with our mothers and fathers foregone.

Small dots overwhelm a vast and black canvas,

As dark as an obsidian tecpatl,

How they glisten, sparkle, and dance with grace all along the cosmic playground.

Celestial bodies that are ruled by none,

Some blue, some white, and some orange,

Small orbs of gas that emit a spectacular fire,

A million jewels that cannot be taken nor stolen,

How they adorn the freedom of infinite space and claimed by no mortal. 

Some see shapes and figures,

Others see pantheons of gods,

Mis ancestros saw the representations of the natural world,

The order of chaos and tranquility – the duality of our cosmic reality – Ometeotl!

Brilliant and beautiful brown people who used the stars to navigate and plan accordingly.

Those ancient people of mine still exist through memory,

Just as stars that have lived through their time and eventually expire,

For the stars and their movements are mortal,

But during their time, they light up the darkest pockets of space,

Just like how mis ancestros are a beacon of light, a source to my pride. 

Nuestro ancestros and their diligent work of decoding the cosmos… 

We are forever grateful for the lighted pathways they left for us.

Today, we can still see the same charts of the universe’s secrets they left for us,

Look up to see these radiant beacons of life glow,

But look deeper and I will share a secret with you. 

The same white fog that bleeds in the darkest nights,

The same jewels of planets that dance along their sibling, Earth,

The same light-like fireflies that overwhelm the heavens,

Behold, these same celestial figures are the same sights, 

Nuestro ancestros inspected with curious beauty.

I share this unearthly connection with the People of my Past,

Unbound by imaginary and colonized boundaries,

Unshackled by religious dogmas that justified genocide,

Unrestricted by bestowed lies that the invader’s belief was the way to salvation.

For one minute, I share the divine and astronomical playground of the Four Movements,

I get to run across the black field illuminated by fire,

And bash the ball of solid rubber against my hip,

Only to chase the ball mis antepasados used to play,

Dashing through the particles and atoms of time and matter,

A feeling of something familiar, yet so far away.

These ancient people de mi sangre are still recognized today by both spoken and written word,

Some through indigenous tongues that have not been tamed by the colonizer,

Others through continued practice of culture and traditions,

And for people like me who have become detribalized,

I look to the celestial heavens above and remember,

That my indigeneity and roots are strongly connected to this Land and Rock that floats in space,

And if I ever feel truly alone, 

All I have to do is return to the skies, 

Regardless of any border I happen to stand on,

And feel the presence of mis antepasados,

Looking up at the same stars that live and die above us.