An Encounter Of Sensitivities | Just another site

Posted February 28, 2018

All men of all times
learned to speak with this word, and the lights of the heavens were burning, and the trees of the earth blossomed, the birds sang it in their nests and in the roar of wild beasts.

When life was born, everything said:
Mother Earth !, Mother Earth!
Mother water! And the fires of the sacrifices were kindled on the harsh tops of the mountains.

And the first goddess of men was the mother of the one who descended every day to fecundate the world from the heavens full of flames.

Isis! - said in the mystery of the temples
the priests of the golden miter.

Ceres! - they sang crowned with roses and the hierophants of white Hellas.

Astarte! - In the Phoenician seas, the voices of the nautas shouted.

And two hundred centuries ago, in time when time was not counted,
Kinich Kakmó! Mother of the Force!
Mother of the Flame!
In the mystical glory of the solstices
Our Mayan Fathers cried in ecstasy! Mary !, in the hour of the Gospels
the light of the heavens descends to the souls and in the midst of the clear flight of the angels
the humble ones full of hope;
the woman who has a mantle of stars and the dragon defeated under her

seas of sweetness pours on the earth
and until her mournful eyes rise,
with thirst for tenderness and hunger for justice, and with the voice of wounded humanity call it
Mother of God !,
Mother of mercy!
and she has to the chest, seven stabs and in the eyes have seven bright stars
rain of gifts run through their tears.

Infinite pain and love without shores, Pain and love !, High lights of life
Pain and love! great and eternal words.

Painful mater, the one that feels the son that when arriving at the world, breaks the entrainment and that next groans next to the black tomb of the one that will never return to kiss it. >

The one who suffers the cruel martyrdom with no name
abandonments, what care do you pay, but forgive, who always forgives, and bless the edge that hurts your soul. >

The one who cries the empty void of absence
and every night lights a lamp
and every day prays because that one returns that far away and says nothing.

p> The mother who delivers the son, when asked

The mother of the mother, who is called Motherland.
Mother of the loser without lauro or fight!
Mother of the winner with fortune and fame!

The one who in the silence of the holy fields
dressed in mourning as a shadow passes,
with hands full of humble flowers,
and eyes full of bright tears.

Loving mother cradling the cradle
Mother who smiles, who dreams and who sings!
while little diapers he washes
when the child closes his eyes that ignore the terrible things that life keeps.

The one who combs and curls the golden loops
as in party sun, all lit
that to all chest of illusion breathes the one that borders then the initial of dream
on the young chest that bursts in anxieties.

The one that kisses the award that won the artist
and the cross that the brave won in the battle
the aroma of the bed of the gallant who seeks
kisses of chimera in romantic grid
or kisses forbidden in the sinful party that his blood fire that snatches.

The one who for a kiss, only for a chaste kiss and luminous, sleepless awaits,
that weaves the bridal veil of the daughter
that of his flowing lap goes on to the sturdy arms of the one who steals it,
That's how life, without mercy orders it!

Mother of the heroes !,
Mother of the martyrs !,
Mother of the soldier who fell in campaign !,
Mother of the one who dreams of the glacial glory !,
Mother of the one who seeks peace without finding it !,
Mother of the one who overcomes with fortune and fame !,
Mother of beggars and of paladins !,
of triumphant heroes and of obscure outcasts. >

May all be blessed in all tongues, and by all men of all races!

Mater admirabilis! they gave everything without asking us anything!

Antonio Médiz Bolio - Poet yucateco