Maggots
Your blood is still with me.
It is as I shed it.
You are absent.
Who was wrong?
I felt in a drum
You made the wall.
Mass of you in Chaco.
I headed for reservation.
I had to.
Once free like condor
Indigenous of Chaco, Guarani
Forced into reservation.
I had questions.
I had to see them.
I had to know them.
“What happened? How? ”
Reply was necessary
A must
And you were obstacle
You were many, I felt in drum, in barrel.
You made the wall of a drum around me.
Thirsty for my blood
You attacked
We fought
I smashed you
Your blood is still with me.
I am not a murderer
I defended myself
And you
Yes you were killed
Many of you, the maggots.
I preserved your blood
Your corpses and wings.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem