Oh
tell me your story, you city of old.
Entreat you do I;
let your account unfold.
I'll listen intently,
won't turn a deaf ear.
Your story, your sorrow,
the world needs to hear.
"When ancient
was new, 'twas here I was placed.
Constructed by slaves,
a subordinate race.
And when finally the
erection was o'er,
Brutally tortured
and murdered they were.
Then came the white
man with his cross, horse, and gun,
And more lives were
lost 'til his gold he had won.
The dark-skinned were
beaten and slain with a knife
By people claiming
to be so much like Christ.
And, oh, yet another
slaughter came about.
The white man and
native again had a bout.
Yet, this time the
situation was reversed:
The Spaniard was set
ablaze inside his church.
Still once more endured
I a humongous weight.
A simple idea accompanied
with hate
Sped up the demise
of so many more,
And brought left against
right and rich against poor.
And still here I stand,
so primitive and proud.
My body holds buildings.
My limbs still hold crowds.
The smiles of my children
help to ease the pain,
But the memories comeback,
again and again.
Oh stranger, you foreigner,
this you must hear:
Blood-shed will bring
blood-shed and hatred and fear.
Oh be you not frightened
of nature or time
Fear only yourselves
and your infamous minds.
*Dedicated
to the city of Leo'n, Nicaragua
