Argies

“Good morning my country,
Radio AM transmitting,
... how did you wake up today?”
“Our country is burning, sir!
... it wants no more pain,
it doesn’t want to see the sun today”.

December has started rarely, putting the thermometer on fire.
A bitter tango razed the silver sky city.
“Today is the 20th -the radio said- and the pressure is rasing.
A rumor has been spread, a silent shout of union.

Ghosts of Tienanmen Park, of Bastille, will reappear.
Along a one way road, their plan is riding.

Double-quick step.
The word of command rumbles “no one will cross”.
The situation forces: to be or not to be.
Saints, judges, gods doubt of what they are watching.

Innocents are marching and they wonder:
Why things have to be like this?
Those who keep still lace up those who are searching.
Why dou you keep still? Why are you suffering?

And although I saw people crying –opposite emotions-
... martyrs will sow roads of peace.
I saw pavilions blowing in the wind. It was solely romance.
It was a mockery for the bullets employed to make history bleed.