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Cultural assimilation (abecedarian) America drives dreams, so we leave the beautiful Borinqueña Island with the desire to chase the almighty dirty dollar. We go from villas to slums, speaking Spanish to exploring new language, that is neither English nor Spanish. But instead formations of words that’s packaged and labeled Spanglish and given as gifts to the next generation. The gift of ignorance. We allowed our happiness to be tainted with greed of things we never needed. We ignored the crying of the rain-forest and the calling of Old San Juan. The new world came at a cost of heritage lost. Knowledge of new urban ways gave shame to the once loving phrase, the “jibaro” or Mountain-dwelling peasants that are the heart of the island Now I no longer speak my once beloved tongue. I surpassed those annoying obstacles of unacceptance by simply disowning my parents….But at night, between screams and sirens I hear a quiet quiver. In the midst of unruly streets that never sleep I hear a rallying cry. Sometimes I even detect the sultry sound of the coqui-the native frog that never left. Together they tell the tale of the Taíno tribe. The history of a people that were unwelcomed in their own home. An entire race that simply Vanished. We blame the wicket while we whittle away history that can only be carried out with words of self-worth. Words become xenon that add light to a past life. A past largely taken for granted in my youth. If only I could summons the zodiac gods to realign the skies and bring me back to the zeal I once had, when I was alive, in a heavenly place called, Puerto Rico.