A Poem for All Saints Day

 

For Those Dead, Our Dead 

By Padre Ernesto Cardenal 

When you get the nomination, 

the award, the promotion, 

 think about the ones who died. 

When you are at the reception, 

on the delegation, on the commission, 

think about the ones who died. 

When you have won the vote, 

and the crowd congratulates you, 

think about the ones who died. 

When you’re cheered 

as you go up to the speaker’s platform, 

with the leader, 

think about the ones who died. 

When you’re picked up at the airport, 

in the big city, 

think about the ones who died. 

When its your turn, 

to talk into the microphone, 

when the TV cameras focus on you, 

think about the ones who died. 

When you become the one 

who gives out the certificates, 

orders, permission, 

think about the ones who died. 

When the little old lady 

comes to you with her problem, 

her little piece of land, 

think about the ones who died. 

See them without shirts, 

being dragged, gushing blood, wearing hoods, 

blown to pieces, submerged in tubs, 

getting electric shocks, their eyes gouged out, 

their throats cut, riddled with bullets, 

dumped alongside the road, 

in holes they dug themselves, 

in mass graves, 

or just lying on the ground, 

enriching the soil of the wild plains: 

You represent them. 

The ones who died
Delegated you.