Dedicated to Miguel, a Baptist minister killed with three others in El Salvador on November 15, 1989.
You tried to rip out the roots of my life.
One time, ten times, a thousand times, a
million times.
To erase me from the earth
so as not to leave traces of my existence.
But today I am more alive than when you
killed me.
I give you back your death
so that you will always carry it like a
shadow
that does not allow you to forget—
that the bread you raise to your mouth
is the bread that was paid for with the
sweat of our workers;
the coffee that delight you
you took from campesinos blood;
the latest fashion that you wear
you robbed from women who worked long
hours.
Because of your luxury, billions of my
brothers and sisters
were left without food, without sleep,
without rest, without schools.
When you sleep, may you draw in your
dreams
the faces to be disappeared
the pain of their children
the bodies you mutilated
and the tortures you designed.
I give you back your death.
Because today I am more alive than when
you killed me.
Salvadorean refugee, Secudino Ramirez
They plucked our fruit, they cut our branches, they burned our trunk, but they could not kill our roots.
Committee of United Campesinos, Guatemala
