Those who at the request of darkness
go up to the platforms
and before the towers of heaven
justify their skimpy salary.

Those who, knowing in advance
that they will lose everything including their lives,
take charge of their discontent
and stand up,
walking down the streets
beating their chests,
covering billboards in the slogans of blood.

Those who despite fear
lack of faith
globalization
and uncertainty
go on believing in the heart’s reasons
eternal love
and absolutes.

Those who blinded by
incomprehension’s light
continue sowing daisies.

Those who were struck
by lightning and fire
and never cease
feeding doves.

Those who build plazas with hammocks
where people once rigged up bombs.

Those who shake away the dust
from abandoned tables
and lay out the tablecloth with 100 plates.

Those who wash the flags
(even though protocol says the opposite)

Those who shit on protocols.

Those who get married 17 times
so that love may be everlasting.

Those who hold out against the prod
the camp
the submarine
and returning to life
qualify as teachers
and build a school.

Those who
despite universal deafness
construct musical instruments.

Those who believe the sea
doubles as a handkerchief.

Those who believe it’s possible
to paint stars on the distant sky.

Those who believe the sky
is not so distant
and sometimes, on extraordinary occasions,
can be touched by the hand.

Those who love too much
and instead of adopting
Vietnamese children
go out to the suburbs
to work with those who have no sky.

Those who build boats in the desert.

Those who paint birds
in jail.
Those who dream of flying
with the birds.
Those who dream.
Those whose heads
are filled with birds.
Those who keep birds
in their heads.

Those who consider wrinkles
on the skin as decorations.

Those who cry each time
an old man dies
because at that moment one more library
goes up in flames.

Those who forsake comfort
and a warm stove
and, in a full-on asthma attack,
walk off into the forest
to change everything.
To change everything.
To change it.