Tag Archive: Che Guevara


repost: the wind carries his name

The Wind carries his Name.


They shot him down,

to silence a man of flesh and bone.

Even as the bullets tore through him,
the wind carried his name.

Far across the weary fields,
high above the stubborn peaks,
over the blood soaked streams,
the wind carried his name.

They shot him down,
to silence a man of flesh and bone.

Yet the wind carries his name,
to you and to me,
to them and to us.

They shot him down,
but his name resounds,
as it floats on the breeze.

And,

still they try to shoot him down,
to silence us all, 
to stifle an ideal.

But the wind cannot be stilled,
and the wind carries his name:


“Che”.



( For Ernesto Guevara de la Serna )

The Wind Carries His Name

image

Ernesto Guevara

They shot him down,
to silence a man of flesh and bone.

Even as the bullets tore through him,
the wind carried his name.

Far across the weary fields,
high above the stubborn peaks,
over the blood soaked streams,
the wind carried his name.

They shot him down,
to silence a man of flesh and bone.

Yet the wind carries his name,
to you and to me,
to them and to us.

They shot him down,
but his name resounds,
as it floats on the breeze.

And,

still they try to shoot him down,
to silence us all,
to stifle an ideal.

But the wind cannot be stilled,
and the wind carries his name:

“Che”.

(For Ernesto Guevara)

double-helixed uBuntu

double-helixed uBuntu.

image

these interwoven veins,
dna,
double-helixed,

microscopic,
binding us, all of us,
together, as one,

species, one race,
human,

me & you

us,
all,

through
this common
shared
truth:

‘I am because you are’*

all of us
together
as one

me & you = uBuntu*

image

image

* – uBuntu is an isiXhosa/isiZulu concept that espouses the “belief in a universal bond of sharing that connects all humanity”

the tears of olives

the tears of olives  …

trickling down shrapnelled flesh

tears fall

like
blood
on
bloodied
cheek

while in the sun

lifeless bodies
lie cold as stone

still
the tears of olives
flow

salty sentinels
of memory:

pain
suffering
occupation
hunger

the tears of olives
perennially streak

etching pathways of dust

between alleyways of desolation

hopelessly bleak

yet still
the slaughter continues

as more dead bodies

rot
reek

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