While they worship the mercenary
And the revolutionary in Santa Clara,
Where he lies, his eyes firmly pointed
At the city below, a monumental cultural icon
That defied the plague of inequality
And made the hunger for justice
A mission of love
And with him, a few hundred miles
Down the road lies, the undying legacy
Of a primordial nationalist,
One who rose from obscurity
Through study halls and class rooms
Of University of Havana, to become
The ultimate rebel and patron of the poor.
The man with the hunger of a lion
And the industry of a worker bee
Who made a sugar heartland, a homeland
Of equality and fraternity
And miles apart, one lies under the clear
Cuban sky, as a monument of love
And adoration, and the other, wisps
Thin in figure but resonates in myth and fact.
Two men who defied the rule of the thumb
And the invisible hand, to make this world
A little more equal in grassroots
Even if the grass was a paler shade of green.
And through revolution and love
They lingered until they were absentees
Two men who made love as much about
A decry of gluttony and greed
And waged a war for the least visible
The slum dogs of an island
In the greater Antilles.
And their journeys will be written forever,
Just like Hemmingway’s ink
In ineffaceable parchments that are scrolled
And concealed, in the dire depths
Of the human heart.