By Iya Ta’Shia Asanti

On July 30, in Austin, Texas, Denver poet, activist and revolutionary Trinidad Sanchez made his transition to the realm of the ancestors. An international community of fans and fellow poets who both love and deeply respect him and his work as a poet and activist, as well as his loving wife, Regina, his loving children and numerous family members, survive him
I met Brother Trinidad Sanchez nearly eight years ago at Brother Jeff’s Cultural Center and Café. He not only became a great friend, but someone I would deeply admire both for his work as a poet and his lifetime commitment to racial and gender equality. He always encouraged me to keep writing and often read my work.
In Denver, Trinidad was known for taking his poetry to places where it was most needed. He visited dozens of inner city schools in the most impoverished neighborhoods. He touched thousands with his unique style of reading. He was the featured poet at dozens of venues in Denver such as Mercury Café, Brother Jeff’s Cultural Center and Café Nuba: Its Hot & Its Black. 
Trinidad and his wife relocated to Texas a couple of years ago due to health issues. His work never stopped. He started an email forum to keep his friends involved in his various activist and poetry-related projects.
Trinidad’s signature poem, an anti-gun, anti-crime poem, “Let Us Stop the Madness,” was selected as one of the winning poems of the People's Choice Competition. Whenever he would read that poem and shout over the microphone, “Let us stop the madness, stop the madnesssssss!,” people would jump out of their seats shouting in agreement. Trinidad was talking about gang violence and any other crime of oppression. He was talking about communities of color being divided. And he wasn’t just talking. His life was dedicated to ending acts of violence in urban cities and around the world and to unifying people of color.
After Trinidad’s passing, venues across the country and in Denver held tributes. Café Cultura, a distinguished venue in Denver, which caters to poets of color, held a standing-room-only event. Newspapers around the U.S. honored his legacy.
“Trinidad was more than just a poet; he was a teacher. He was a prophet. He was the voice of the Barrio,” said Bobby Lefebre, one of the primary organizers for Café Cultura. “It is amazing how one man could have had so many different close relationships with so many people. When he spoke, the world listened.” Lefebre described Trinidad as a bridge that connected people from all walks of life in a common cause.
Trinidad taught us poetry was a very dangerous thing because of its potential to penetrate the lies and speak the truth. He made it very clear that it was our duty to document our history in our own words so that nobody could construe our existence. He was an exceptional human being.

Editor’s note: Donations to help offset medical bills and continue to promote Trinidad’s vision and work may be sent to: Mrs. Trinidad Sánchez, Jr.; 2803 Fredericksburg Rd. #1215; San Antonio, Texas 78201.
Iya Ta’shia Asanti is an award-winning poet, writer and contributing editor the Urban Spectrum.

On Being Chicano
I recall the monjas telling me
"Tomorrow you must wear green,
remember, it's St. Patrick's Day!"
I refused.
My first revolutionary act.
My body flushed, the pinch fear
she would flunk me,
or would get even because
I refused to turn IRISH!
On television, I was bombarded
to bathe with IRISH SPRING—
A MAN'S SOAP.
The swimming pool—
as soon as I entered the water,
the vato in charge of the pool appeared
pouring in a gallon of bleach,
because I refused to use IRISH SPRING.
Being Chicano is not easy!