When We Return

When we return to our ancient land
that we never knew
and we talk of all those things
that never happened

We will walk holding children by the hand
who have never existed

We´ll listen to their voices and live
that life that we spoke of so often
and have never lived.

- Daisy Zamora (1950 -)

A Flower

There is a flower in my cell.
I found it alone in a corner
as if being punished.
It burst the hard floor
of cement and stone.
It broke the taboo
of being born in a cell.
I saw no bird come in
to deposit the seed.
No one made a furrow
to sprout it in,
not a raindrop
to make it bloom.
So it was born,
alone, in a favorable corner,
aided by no one.

With it, already the cell
isn't a cell.
It's now a garden,
a garden of one solitary rose,
my incarcerated rose:
a political prisoner.

- Carlos Jose Guadamuz

A Voice

They mutilated they torment each other
With silences with words
As if they had another
life to live

they do so
as if they had forgotten
that their bodies
are inclined to death
that the inside of men
easily break down

ruthless with each other
they are weaker
than plants and animals
they can be killed by a word
by a smile by a look

Tadeusz Rozewicz (1921- )