Tag Archives: children

The Lost Heart of a Lamb

23 May

Silhouette, group of happy children playing on meadow, sunset, s

O Father, can you see me cry outside?
I’ve fallen deep inside a hole,
too close to a wooden door
that will never let me inside
a Paradise never known
by mortals in this life.

O Mother, can’t you hear me call for help?
I’ve fallen to my grave
and I’ve injured too much my nails
to crawl back to the grass
in where I would touch my face
and believe in my heart…

O World, can’t you listen the wolves behind?
They’ve eaten my heart,
and now I’ve become part of their pelt
and now I’ve become part of their pest
that withers the flowers by my side
and whom the trees dread
when I walk around their land…

O God, can’t you see what they’ve done to me?
I’ve lost my face inside a well.
The water would show my face back then,
but now I see a monster of shining teeth.
Yet no one seems to see,
as their eyes are no longer water to drink
nor the mirror inside a well.
They’ve become cold stones without a price,
chiseled by the sharp images in their life
and who no longer want to see
what they don’t want to see.

O myself, can’t you see your face anymore?
I no longer see people.
I no longer see life.
I have now the face of the wolf.
I have lost the eyes of the lamb.
I find myself no longer in territory of God,
but rather in a grizzly battlefield
in where I can ripe flowers once more
by tearing them apart
from the chests of the animals,
who happen to be actual lambs
who can see the life I see no more.

I am no longer a lamb of God,
but rather a lost animal.
And the only colours and flowers
I can seed and ripe
are the cardiac seeds
that I must tear apart
from the loving chest of the lambs.

Maybe… Maybe only that way…
I will recover my lost heart.



This poem was inspired on Christopher Raymundo Márquez’s murder at the hands of a deranged group of teenagers, allegedly playing the “kidnapping” game, whereas it was actually a cold blooded planned murder from the very beginning.
As one Mexican academic (golly, forgot his name…) said, we’re raising nowdays a generation of psychopaths, not only in Mexico, but around the world, by letting them enjoy fiestas bravas, violent video games like Call of Duty, watch junk TV shows without supervision…
People, we’re failing as adults, as educators, as humans as well. We’re failing, and it is showing on our children’s mindsets. We need to be more conscious and closer to our children’s inner world; who knows what will happen if this repeats again? In some years from now on, psychopathy might even become so normal it will gradually destroy the world…

In some years, the Two Thousands might as well be recognizable because of its lack of virtual humanity.

Please, people, if you’re a parent, take a moment to read Christopher’s case—all of the cases about children murderers—and think just for a moment if you’re teaching to your kid something beyond the “basics” of the individualistic bourgeois values. Something that might make them more than “successful” and “literate” people: see if you’re teaching them to be human.

Thanks for reading!


The Daily Post Challenge: Getting Seasonal

20 Dec

This is the new The Daily Post entry for its new challenge, Getting Seasonal, about how has your perception towards Christmas changed. Here’s my entry, so I hope you like it!

6 year old’s diary:

Goodness! I love Christmas so much! My family will come, we’ll eat together, and have a fun night, woohoo! I love this year! Everybody’s here and we’ll be dancing and singing together! It’s gifts time! We’ll all receive gifts! We’ll all have new toys! Woohoo! Christmas is the best time of the year to receive free stuff…!

          Ah? Who’s Jesus?

12 year old’s diary:

Alright! It’s that time of the year already! I am so happy. People will come and we’ll all have a good night. Hmm… They no longer want to play video games. But that’s OK! I mean, that’s for kiddies. We’re all grown up, right?

          But I wish they could’ve bought me better gifts… So mean of them! Can’t they see the TV and how the perfect Christmas is that one in where it snows and you receive toys? Have you guys watched TV lately…? Grr…

14 year old’s diary:

They’re here already, but why are they all watching TV? Why is nobody talking…? Oh well, at least that show’s funny, and we’re catching up with each other at dinner. It’s good to be together; I still can’t believe that Santa Claus doesn’t exist, but Christmas is the best gift ever for everybody: it’s the time of the year the whole world is together and better! And besides, I’ll receive gifts from my relatives, so it’s all OK. In fact, if you receive gifts, it means that you were nice, and this season is all about being nice. I can say that I was nice, because being nice is that… Hmm… What is it…?

          Oh my, I won’t receive gifts… I guess it wasn’t really about gifts, now that I see that they’re barely here… Now that I see that, maybe, what made gifts fun is that I had people to share them with…

          Oh my, Jesus’ birthday was today… I am so ashamed… I gave him no toys. And I cried for nothing… I was so selfish… But I thought that I was being good as I never swore or hit people, as TV said… My…

18 year old’s diary:

Most of them won’t come, as always, as it has been ever since a long while.

I really can’t watch the TV any longer, it’s tiring and nothing happens. I am tired that they just dedicate the programming to sell toys and stuff no one really needs, and I am even more tired because they keep using the same moral of “gifts don’t really matter”, and next time they show a commercial of an expensive toy! God dang it, people, make up your mind. To whom do you swear fealty…?

I wish the ones that came could speak more and play a bit more a video game, I don’t know… It’s really disheartening to turn on the TV and watch all…that. I wish they could speak and let me know that we’re still together—that the world is better, and it is not crumbling as I fear…

          Is somebody here?

20 year old’s diary:

Why are we still waiting? Nobody’s coming. Just turn on the TV and watch anything you want already. It’ll say the same: wars, hunger, pests, killings, deaths. Deaths. Deaths. How nobody truly cares about Christmas with all those killings—how it is just another day, a special day for shopping, because no one truly cares it is a supposed day to be thankful and loving to the world. And then another commercial. Another insufferable insistence that Santa Claus exists and that you gotta buy something immediately so your kid won’t lose its childhood… Why, dammit, do you turn its childhood into something that must be bought? Why can’t you teach him that the Christmas you know it’s fake, that it’s supposed to be a Christian holiday that fell in the hands of bigger and more powerful hands that turned it into a season to show love instead of teaching how to love? Why can’t you see that you’re just a buyer? Why can’t you…?

          Ok, Ok. I am eating. Sorry…

22 year old’s diary:

It’s this time again. I suppose I should be happy: there’s no such thing as a Santa Claus that will reward good children and treat them like puppies in need of a treat, and thus this world isn’t entirely ruled by corporative egomaniacs. The fact that no such marketing exchange between the supernatural and the children exists gives me the hope that the world, although not ruled by moral, isn’t ruled by loonies either. So we’re kinda safe, I guess.

Yet there’s no one—not even the memory of Jesus or anything that involves the memory’s essence in this season of the year—that can remind them that the greatest gift is not in a store; it’s not even announced with honesty on TV, no matter how many times they repeat it like stuttering old men. It’s a gift they don’t even believe in, because it is neither sold nor has a price.

          It’s the gift of not humanity. And the world needs it a lot.

          Oh well… Maybe they won’t be the model of Christmas, but I’ll try to be the best in this season. I won’t do much if I keep complaining, will I? And besides, even though we’ll all be alone in this dinner, I still can do something to draw a smile around, so that way I won’t become a useless Grinch…

          Even though the Grinch got that catchy theme song I wish I could have, heh.

Aaaaand this is how my perception changed in undersanding and celebrating Christmas.

Thanks for reading!

The Little Kings: Daily Post Challenge

3 Dec

As part of the newest challenge in the Daily Post, which I occasionally follow, I will post my participation in this week’s newest challenge called “Snapshot“, which involves capturing a moment using words, not a camera. Since I had so many scenes in my mind and none was working, I decided to base myself instead of a photo, and used this one as my inspiration:

Militarizan en Juárez cargos públicos

Good ol’ desert streets… In any case, I tried to use words to describe this snap moment. Now, if I succeeded… Be my guest, my reading judgue. I hope you enjoy it!

I’m the king, the little guy thinks. I’m the king. A soldier takes care of me. I am the king of the city. The kings are assisted by the soldiers. So, by logic, I am the king. And the little count walking beside him grins as well. So powerful, he feels. They have in the city these men that look after them, the little kings of the city, without paying them anything, or so they think. Yet they don’t know this photo shot is gray. They’re not aware we’re looking at them through these gray colours. They just see the colours, but one day they might see the vibrant red that’s flooding the streets of the city. How should they know of the existence of this gray? They just see the wide streets, leading them to their kingdom, to the Tire-and-Bottle Land. What else do they want with their very own field just for themselves, just in front, in the end of the street they’re walking in? I’m the king, this child thinks, because there’s a soldier staring at the horizon, looking after me.

And the soldier, motionless, indeed looks at nothing. Just nothing. He doesn’t see anything at all. Just nothing. He doesn’t see a hopeful horizon. He doesn’t see the people he should serve. He doesn’t see the little kings at his feet. He can’t see anything. He doesn’t see anything. Because he can just glare at nothing. Because he came from nowhere, and nowhere he will go. He contemplates at nothing, he works for that precisely: for nothing. But he does notice the shades of gray. He does know what’s behind him—he knows he’s the guardian of another king—and he doesn’t see it directly, but he knows he’s back there. That’s what moves him. It’s his core. It’s his nourishment.

Behind him, the kings he protects, knowingly without seeing them. In front of him, the little kings he should protect, unknowingly despite seeing him under his nose.

A wide street. Gray. Filthy. Their trucks are overwhelming bisons. There’s no more heat in this desert city. The chill’s in the scene, hidden in the gray.

Thanks a bunch for reading!