Americaca - the Sounds of Silenced Survivors

I was an Indian without a tribe, stuck in the Oakland Housing Projects with only a maternal compass to guide me. Dios te bendiga, Mijo, my mother would say placing her hand on my forehead each day, asking God to bless me. I could feel her medicine, her energy, and her hope for me enter my body, fill my soul, and warm the cold. This was Her Blessing Way, praying for my protection in her absence...