“O, Maria

I see you in the sky

Clothed with the sun

And I hear you and

The promises God gave you

 

The Father told you that the poor

Shall be lifted up

Maria, I am poor, too,

And my grandbabies

They crossed the boarder

Eating sand

Their shirts ripped off their backs

From the barbwires

Trying to keep them poor

 

Now, Maria, I look up

Where you are

And I pray for my family in the dirt

I do not know where my grand-babies are

But I know you see them from the sky

You watch out for us

In the dirt, the sand and the heat

In the unknown

 

Please, Maria, look down on me

‘Cause I want to be with you

To be where you are

You know where your Son is

You remember His face

I don’t want to forget my children

And their children

I wish I could cross the boarder to heaven

And see you beautiful robes

To be welcomed among the people

The Father lifts up.”