The Invocation

A king’s promise:
title and land, hijos dalgo de solar conocido —
a name behind the name, by right of birth.

The promise was kept.
In seventeen-thirty, from Tenerife
the harness-maker’s son sailed;
crossed the Atlantic; rode the camino real;
and at the fork of two rivers made his stand —
Vicente Álvarez Travieso,
alguacil mayor de Béxar.
The grant was real. The river was real. The land was real.

Then the king died.
The empire fell.
The wars came: Mexican, Texan, American, Civil, Mexican again.
The flags changed — five of them, sometimes in a week.
The marshal came. The bandits came. The federales came.

What was given was taken.
What was taken was won back.
What was won back was taken again.

For two hundred and ninety-six years,
across two oceans and five flags,
one Tejano family has done one thing only:
they held on.

Si no por su mano, por la nuestra.
Sigue.
No mires atrás, hijo.

His hand. Now mine.