There are many things I would like to tell you, and, in my opinion, words will always fall short to express the intensity and the particularity of what I feel. I would like to thank each and every one of you without having to repeat a “thank you”, but with a hand when you need it, with deeds and not with letters, however, at that moment, perhaps, the only action I have left is to continue resisting as, until now, I have done together with my blood brother, and together with the subversive brothers and sisters, here in Rancagua, Santiago, or any prison in the world.
There is not a day that goes by that I do not long for a bit of the freedom “of the street”, which, although often illusory and turned into an open-air prison, material at times, and immaterial many others, is undoubtedly preferable to being in this barren courtyard. There is not a day when I do not look at the poplars that move with the wind, high and far from the barbed wire, the concrete and the gazes of the gendarmes, and I wish I was caressing the greenery of a tree, the warmth of a complicit embrace, or the intensity of the meeting of my eyes and those of someone I have not seen for a long time. But I also know that all this is part of what I have decided, that, although it hurts me, and I do not wish prison for anyone, it has never been a novelty this destiny, it has never been a novelty to resist it and try to erode its structures (physical and mental) as much as we can, to break its rigidity and confinement. And, although there are things in which I know I have failed, or which could have been better in terms of my experience there, I am sure there is nothing I can’t learn from it for my present, constant self-criticism has always been, for me, not a necessity, but a life decision which, although sometimes painful, brings with it the only thing I venture to believe is a “universal law”: constant change.
For the rest of this life (and perhaps others), I will be grateful to friends, kindred spirits, siblings and loves, and even if I am flooded with rage, grief and helplessness, I know that sooner or later, one way or another, I will see them again.
“(…)with a loving heart that lays bare before the comrade, with one hand tender and the other armed (…)”
-G. Pombo da Silva
CAGED, NEVER DEFEATED!
DEATH TO ALL HIERARCHIES!
November 20, 2021
Source: Buscando la Kalle