Potter of mothelands: Song to The Liberator – Part 4 (Alfarero de patrias: Canto al Libertador – Parte 4)

Part 4

Simón José Antonio de la Santísima Trinidad Bolívar y Palacios Ponte y Blanco, commonly known as Simón Bolívar (July 24, 1783, Caracas, Venezuela – December 17, 1830, Santa Marta, Colombia) was a Venezuelan military and political leader. Together with José de San Martín, he played a key role in Hispanic-Spanish America's successful struggle for independence from the Spanish Empire, and is today considered one of the most influential politicians in Latin American history.

Following the triumph over the Spanish Monarchy, Bolívar participated in the foundation of the first union of independent nations in Hispanic-America, a republic, which was named Gran Colombia, and of which he was president from 1819 to 1830. Bolívar remains regarded in Hispanic-America as a hero, visionary, revolutionary, and liberator. During his lifetime, he led Colombia, Venezuela, Ecuador, Peru, Panama, and Bolivia to independence, and helped lay the foundations for democratic ideology in much of Latin America.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sim%C3%B3n_Bol%C3%ADvar

Reaching out to Colombians out there to help me celebrate my father’s Song to the Liberator. A great admirer of Simón Bolívar, Dad wrote Motherland potter in 1989 and published it as a booklet, sponsored by the Institute of Culture of Norte de Santander and the Municipal Centre of Cúcuta. I have divided the long poem in four parts for the reader to digest and enjoy slowly…and also to keep the suspense.

Potter of mothelands: Song to The Liberator – Part 4 (Alfarero de patrias: Canto al Libertador – Parte 4)

In the silence

broken by the incessant blow

of the sea

I can hear your voice

that is born in the roots

of boredom

and penetrates the light

of the early afternoon.

Your voice is slow,

musical, faint,

but there is still determination

in your words.

In occasions

you talk

to yourself,

and you become tenderness

when you pronounce

“Motherland”,

“Sucre”,

“Flag”,

or when your gaze

or your hand

reach out

to dictate to the scrivener

the final good byes

beyond the shadows

that gather

in the depth

of your soul.

Liberator!

to your ranch

reaches the voice

of the people

who listened

to your cry

like a trumpet

singing victory.

You are not alone!

you live in the hope

of the people without a roof,

with no bread,

with no joy,

in the men with no land,

and in the bloodstained land

of the men,

in the injustice

and in death.

For your dream

there is so much plenitude,

so much laurel,

so many stars

on the poles

of all the flags,

that are being born now

and from always

among intact lights

in the purest Glory,

that you created

when from the gallop of a horse

you designed the nations

of your America,

in the name of your name,

Immortal Father!