When the people
have won a victory
do you ever wonder
at that moment
where the martyrs
They who sacrificed
to bring to life
though nonetheless more precious
than their blood.
I like to think of them
hovering over us
wherever we have gathered
to weep and to rejoice;
smiling and laughing,
actually slapping each other's palms
Their blood has dried
and become rose petals.
What you feel brushing your cheek
is not only your tears
Martyrs never regret
what they have done
having done it.
they never frown.
It is all so mysterious
the way they remain
how they beam
a human sunrise
and are so proud.
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