Three years later

The last images are recorded, very clear in the heart of my photographic memory. Your smiles of pride pursue me when you saw me, you protected, in my child games always in the challenge of the eminent danger, and your hands and your heart always in alert state, as if you were a great protecting eagle with two great homelike wings and you flew, and with your claws affectionately you caught me and you suspended in your touching lap.

And for among laughter’s, rushes and shouting’s the time of the years elapsed and child's body no longer if he saw, juvenile he felt.

The maternal love is only in the Nature and in the World, and if he disappears, of the life it will just remain a memory string, of one times in that a species existed what somebody called human.

It is abandoned to the days of the life memorized each gesture, each sound… he discovered, it foresaw the future.

Of the monsters of the human cruelty you protected me, almost that you didn't sleep. Humans and inhuman they belong to the same animal species.

And when in my child ingenuousness it pulled the flowers that you affectionately watered, you caressed as if they were other children, your children, and between screams and harsh gestures it squeezed them, showing that among us humans, the violence is always present. But easily corrected by the lessons of the mammy's demonstration that it explains to us that the flowers when mistreated cry also.

And in rumbling of the storms, and in the orange of the rays he woke up of fright, because he heard trembling deafening of the stranger, he screamed desperate: Mammy! Mammy! Mammy!

And you always loving: ready my son, be not afraid, the mammy is already here.

And full of peacefulness and happiness agglutinated back to sleep to her body, in a desire that such it never ended, and that my mother never lacked me.

While we lived didn't recognize our mothers' deserved value. And after her departure forever, lying in the arms of the death we remembered, we wanted, we felt the lack of her presence, of their suits pieces of advice, of their constants words transformed in smiles.

The time passes, it perishes, but mother's love never forgets, forever it stays.

Image: heliotasso.com.br

Thick fog of the mute pianos

And the storks moved without sea

and in earth everything buried

vegetated

No, it just finished somebody

that it sought the lost time

of the word

The nights fall asleep dehumanized

with so many spoiled souls

awake, heartless

So much fake love in a gift to a child

until the flowers they are have enough

they are thinned

of hypocrisy?

It is enough smiling of just a woman

that the World is satisfied

he moves

And as in her the smile finished

the world was displeased, reverse

And many of us

they disappeared in the bitterness of the life

they were distended

A suit smile arrives to the fastest heart

of the one that a flowing body, polluted

The strident, (he stopped softening) sparrow in our Gothic windows

in withering of the death of the works concreted in adorned them

that they succumb us in the pollution of this stipulated civilization

our future is made of concrete

And afflicted we walked, not!

in the love we tripped

I always dream about high mountains to hover in mine to fly

Awake diligent

panicky

a hunter human/dehumanized

he aims at me, he throws me to kill

We got tired of seeking in the external roads

because our interiors

they continue ignored

Still nobody sang them a psalm

of sighs, of loves

The love stays unconquered

When we are not free are not able to, nor we know as loving. Only the freedom allows to savor us dreaming of loving. As it is very curious on these times of so many and so many conquered freedoms, the love stays unconquered. Did anybody see, or does he have knowledge of the conqueror's of the love shadow? I believe that I never again heard the famous scream messenger: I "love you with all my being and with all my forces. I am yours and you are, you will be mine forever. We just have to unite our hearts."

As everything the more until the rules of the love is forgotten, abandoned in a castle ghostly, dismal, fence, kept by curses. Free the love of the slavery of the dictatorship of the curse.

What things, that times these, where did one already see to love without love?

Angola. ANGOLAN ENDO COLONIALISM AND FORCED DISPLACEMENTS

Luiz Araújo SOS-Habitat
In the picture nude woman that undressed front to the wreckers to protest against the demolition of her house.

Let us invest in the power of the Love

We have the power of the love. He sees, when we are happy everything to our turn if it rejoices, everything surrenders to the happiness of our love. The best project than we can do, to invest, of our lives is the love. And as in him already nobody invests, the world economy lost the passion and he lives in the illusion of the love. Let us invest because in the love and let us save our lives.

It is one more love hymn that resumes.

The days of sun bloom and they rejuvenate the fortresses of our love. Where exists human beings, there are always some that trust the honesty of the love. Our fight, our hope, they are always the smiling springs announced in peeping of the near sparrows in our window, in the search of something for sustenance, and also, because no, of our eternal love.

The old trees contemplate us in the garden of our childhood, in the children's company that they learn how to live. Let us don't lose the hope of the days without love. To plant the love, here is our future, here is our crop. The love is the power of our secret.

The crowds are disoriented because they lost, they don't know the direction of the love, and they torture our souls. We have to get to catch the last carriage of the love, before it is late. Let us think, let us renew the gestures and the caresses of the love. There is always time to take some love sips.

When we feel bill, we verified that most of our thoughts is going to the love. To love is not to die, it is to live. The love is our army, the key of our successes.´

When I contemplate the watered fields of sun, wavy for the soft and inviting breeze, and the planting flown over by amounts of insects and birds, it is one more love hymn that resumes.