In the cold nights of Curitiba

Banksy, Walled Off Hotel, Box Set, 2017
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By VILMAR DEBONA*

Poem tribute to the dog from Lula Livre camp

 

When on the cold nights of Curitiba we thought about giving up,
You were there with us, even if shaky, steady.
When they swore it was over, you were the last to go.
And then we discover that, in the end, you stayed.

Stubborn, you didn't panic in the middle of the great night they imposed on us.
You crossed the “channel” of Santa Cândida proudly and smartly
That infamous republic concrete trap
Made only for large motorized objects capable of crushing any spirit.

We don't know where you came from, just that someone gave up on you on a cold night.
But it really seems that you were made to be stubborn
Because you went to join that persecuted group in which, however, still laughed
And with them you did what you know best: you screamed for almost 600 days without getting tired

With that stubbornness, like humiliated people who don't even get tired of the greatest hardship
You ended up recognizing your father, who is also your mother: Esperança.
L of so many Struggles, Leader of so many causes, when she was released
How much dammed caress to caress the scourge, without desire for revenge.

Amidst the locked pandemonium, you have certainly evaluated in whom hunger hurts the most
If in you abandoned or humiliated in it
Both daughters of injustice who destroy everything
Survivors of the fate of armed violence.

In Esperança's house, with a slender gaze on your armchair
You saw on TV the unusual evil of the lie wedded to nefarious ignorance.
He was a man made into a monster. He said he was not a gravedigger and with the virus he took a ride
Vociferating everything that contrasts with good.

Did they want to kill you, black Resistance?
With the bones of the desolate queue?
With evil glee over every overgrown grave?
With the minister passing cattle?

But the poet warned that sadness always has a Hope
And the day to be less sad announced
Which star made a child
That compassion for all beings still hovered.

Beloved Resistance, after all, I'll ask you a favor:
That on January 1st, you go up the ramp, next to Esperança,
Haughty as when you crossed the "channel" of fear
To inhabit the Palace on behalf of all creatures, like those of the Amazon that still sways.

In the power of this massacred land, cry out for silent beings of all kinds
Make noise to those immobilized by so much hatred and to those crushed by all pain,
And from time to time, don't forget to give Esperança a few licks
Which is to remind her of our affection, which deep down is all love.

*Vilmar Debona Professor of Philosophy at the Federal University of Santa Catarina.

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