A mother loses her son to the Revolution,
The air in the Sierra Maestra
Has the fragrance of a Martyrs blood.
Gun shots fade,
There is victory in the air,
But for Tia Artemia,
The longing for Rodolfo never fades,
The longing never ends…
Death gives birth to a martyr,
The people cry victoria!
But a river of silent tears,
Flows beneath the surface of her skin.
Deep within the heart of Tia Artemia,
Tears mingle with a martyr’s blood.
She is like Mary, the mother of Jesus,
Weeping before the cross,
Her son killed by forces loyal to an empire of corruption.
And then the hardships follow,
A blockade imposed against a people struggling for an equitable society.
Tia Artemia never wavers.
In venerable form she carries her pain,
Well over five decades,
Serving the revolution Rodolfo sacrificed his life for.
She is firm in her conviction,
Denouncing an embargo
Fueled by the very forces of darkness that killed her son.
Bloqueo No! Bloqueo No!
A compassionate soul stands firm,
Bloque No! Bloqueo No!
August 4th , 2015
Dedicated to the memory of my aunt Artemia who lived to the age of 100,
in Contramaestre, Cuba.