I always wanted to sing out loud
Mercedes Sosa’s cry
Solo le pido de Dios
But how could I plead to Dios
An imagery of anger had been created
For myself
The righteous messiah clone
Was it for my sake or the cherished concepts?
Who was the benefactor?
My journeys to the lands of broken backs
My scornful look at travelers from promised lands
Motherfuckers all, with bazooka cameras
While the broken backs raised their heads like fish
To grab the few dollars thrown at
By me, the only hero in my own world
What peace I was living those days
Why do houses with their windows closed,
Become historical
Sosa died the year before
But sometimes buses stop near ruining towers
Unloading its rogue travelers
One of them took the room where Sosa lived
With more eyes to see,
The windows had to be opened
Pains of all were visible naked
Miseries too individual for Gramsci to ponder
But too immense for Martha’s Neighborhood Clinic
The doves broke off the chains
That were light but one too many
Finally, I could sing Solo le pido de Dios
For my plead was to myself
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