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On July 13, 1994, Cuban government forces sank the tug on March 13, in which 72 citizens fleeing the island in Florida were traveling. 37 people died, including 10 children
The publisher Betania makes available to readers the poem that has just been published by the poet and narrator Liliam Moro (Havana, 1946) in tribute to the victims .
Journey to Horror
By Liliam Moro
Daddy, do not look, close your eyes! …
(Maria Victoria García, mother of the drowned child Juan Mario)
The land is bounded by borders.
The Sea Is Free
But in freedom there is also Death.
Death is not made of numbers,
is not a quantitative reason
In a single death
c Is humanity.
But when death arrives in uniform
in three boats
and shoot guns furiously throwing water
to sink an opponent
– a death by the water –
and this other is not one, but seventy-two, [19659002] and there are ten children among the seventy-two
-the death by the water-
] and it is at dawn
when the sky and the sea are merged
in the same mist of darkness
-death by ag ua-
then, to save,
they cling to a floating corpse,
and a mother tells the son to close his eyes
so that he would not be scared when he sees the death
-death by water-
when i they ask for mercy
and they respond with a laugh "they die"
-death by water-
and start counting the bodies on their backs, [19659002] adrift,
including ten children as floating dreams.
How do those who have survived stay, Lord?
How are they, Lord, who cried
"to die",
now aged so many years later,
without powerful ships, without water cannons,
with merit medals that oxidize
at the same rate as their rotten soul [1]. 9459006]
To which god did they obey blindly
and whose voice they no longer remember?
How is it, Lord, this woman
who throws candies into the water
every July 13
How are we going we, Lord, those who remember him
every birthday and foaming at the mouth
writing poems
and can not we tear off this infamous page
history books
or grant them resurrection?
The brutal cannon of water in the middle of the night
shattered the sphere of the compbad
which marked the cardinal points
of the time to come,
that they call the future;
broken glbad
with its crushed hands
that could not direct them to the North.
they flowed
with the slowness of which is inevitable.
They did not need the Charon ferryman.
They were sparsely submerging
as the one who finally rests
and abandons himself to the dream where the Void receives them
Tamed to the vase
among the blind fish. ,
descended to keep
company in the old rusty ships
of rotten wood
that have accumulated for centuries
where begins the Abyss,
and below, in the depths of the bottom
so similar to the infinite
the beings who have tried
to move to another point in the neighboring geography.
And they are still there.
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