Note from the poet: In commemoration of the Day of Heroism, June 19, 1986. Dedicated to the heroic prisoners of war of the three Shining Trenches of Combat of El Frontón, Lurigancho and Callao prisons. We honor the fallen heroes by upholding, defending, and applying Marxism-Leninism-Maoism, principally Maoism, and the contributions of universal validity of Chairman Gonzalo. It was the fire of the ideology guiding the heroic prisoners of war that kept the trenches shining brilliantly, in this case Marxism-Leninism-Maoism, Guiding Thought which would be developed and soon after formally adopted as Marxism-Leninism-Maoism, Gonzalo Thought.
Everyone is Remembered
In Blue Block resistance, reddening concrete and shrapnel, the comrades fall heavy like Andean mountains, crushing and embarrassing death to resignation, not wanting anything to do with the souls of fire and glory, leaving them to be absorbed by comrades climbing out from concrete crypts turned shining trenches. ‘Who is Gonzalo?’ they ask to mock. They’re naked except for robes of blood and debris. They have been forged in fire, iron legions with shared purpose like a sword of bright steel. ‘Where is Gonzalo!’ they ask to provoke. Everything is remembered, everyone knows, everyone is remembered, the guilty and the heroes: Alejandro wounded, his blood streaming, his head, his waist, his last command: Sing the Internationale, comrades! and he picks up the flag, red and heavy with 115 years of blood. ‘Where is Gonzalo!’ Victor, José, Teófilo, Julio, Félix, Osvaldo, Armando, Daniel, Wille, Amílcar, Felipe, Ignacio, Lucho: More than 250 culminations of 15 billion years of matter in motion. Our heroic and unstoppable children sent to history in two directions: to take up new posts with our ancestors and to the future to be born again. ‘Who is Gonzalo!’ They still ask, they still want to insult but they really want to know because they are dumb roaming beasts sniffing out blood. They want to know what force keeps these bodies up and going and fighting. ‘Is it Gonzalo? Who is he? Where is he!’ The state’s soldiers are scared. They shoot scared, they shoot not to be killed, they’ve been trained to kill with bravery but die like cowards, and these children our children, shoot to kill too but are free from fear of being killed. These children of Gonzalo they seek, they are hurricanes and earthquakes unstoppable like the People’s War. The beasts hear them: they’re not crying, they’re singing. The wide eyes of the soldiers turn black and windowless. They’ve carried out the orders of their old masters. The beasts turn back quickly like cowards from their fate, but no one escapes, least of all the unpunished guilty because everything is remembered, everyone knows, everyone is remembered, the guilty and the heroes: our children.