avivaron el fuego, 
                                                                                                         ya no hay mar que me eche atrás

disintegrate us,
but we’ll remain still
you shout, breathless
to the false protectors in front of us

you call for a change
that is long overdue

you take my hand, hard
you press against my palm, trembling
but firm
it’s not time to be scared, honey:
revolution is calling out
and our blood’s already answered


my mother once told me
it is our duty to stand up
for what we believe
as she closed the windows and locked the doors, 
hiding from the chaos and the lost bullets
that overtook the streets

these are dark days,
said my father,
surrounding her in his arms,
drying her tears as they fell
from her eyes
through her cheeks
to the floor
but this shall pass

i’m sorry, father
but it shan’t pass
unless we’re willing
to make it happen

unless we’re willing
to stand up
for what


i’m here for you
i shout, too, disintegrate us,
for this is no cul-de-sac.

i reach out for the cloth and the vinegar
and the mask and your waist
and the people
that stand with to us
and call upon freedom.


change is but disintegration
of the past,
towards a new horizon:
a steady river
that plows through the undergrowth
to find a way
and find its channel

and it always


closing my eyes to breathe,
i envision a day, a new morning
with no cops
with no soldiers
with no riots no students no chants for freedom

are we close?
can we get there?
is it beyond our reach?

i shake my head.
it is not my duty to choose whether tomorrow’s close,
it is my duty to make sure this night comes to an end
and the sun rises again:

the flame has been set loose
and i can’t let the smoke blind me
but make sure they burn to the core
and leave only hope behind:

the path is once again visible.


and as pinless black figures fly upon our heads
and thick white gas fills up our lungs,
and they start running towards us
i vow to protect you,
my love
i grab your hand
and together
as one soul
we take a step

ANDRÉS IGNACIO TORRES was born in Valencia, Venezuela in 1996. Student of Computer Engineering at the Universidad Simón Bolívar (Caracas, Venezuela). Winner of several short fiction contests, his stories and poems have been published in Latin American magazines such as Cantera, Canibalismos, and Universalia