From which races, I am, was and will be?
Which colors and creeds, which luck?
How many lives lived and will live?
Died and will die of how many deaths?
How many loves and dreams and hopes
How much faith, how much pain
was I Mom or Dad, of how many children?
how many torments, and horrors?
How many children have I cried, in so many wars?
How many children have I raised and was happy?
How many bodies, how many waters, how many lands
did I touch, kissed, love and was root?
And how many times yet, to give me?
How many lives still to be reborn?
How many mouths, yet to be kissed?
How many deaths, yet to die?
Yet, conformed, I sing the song
The march, the mission, the pain that screams
And I got butterflies by my side
Made, like me, of Love and Land! …
Aline Martins
