We are Ayotzinapa
I’m lying on the ground
You can see where they stabbed and cut out my face.
My teeth are visible, instead of a face, there is just exposed flesh
And you are tormented by the two holes that are where my eyes should be.
My classmates were searching,
And they found me turned into a symbol.
They wanted to take me away from my people
Steal their memories to kill me, to erase me, to make me disappear for once and forever.
They wanted to turn me into their crime, their threat, a scarecrow, an intimidation.
But I live.
I live when my mother cries as she whispers my name with a broken voice.
I live in the funeral filled with friends and loved ones,
A suffering crowd who’s presence stands against terror
And declares that between them, someone had lived,
A boy who they met, saw and wanted to see.
Someone who is still loved in their pain, their heart and their memories.
I am not the senseless crime they tried to turn me into.
I live in a tear of rage, in a raised fist,
A firm step that marches over the enemy.
I live in your resistance.
I live in your protest.
In your compromise and your effort.
Swear to me you will not give up.
Do so, looking straight into my eyes.
Take a look at the flesh, the blood and the bones in which they left me.
And observe the sight of who I once was.
Do not forget me.
If you forget me, they will win.
If you confuse me for what they have left on the ground,
I will only be a tortured corpse, and that is what they want.
Those who waited for me.
Who looked for me, who followed me,
Who oppressed me so I will stop being human.
But they failed.
Those who serve death,
Who crush the innocence and trust of the poor so they will keep quiet.
So they will stay still.
So they will let themselves be killed.
But they failed.
Because the face they took, is mine.
But the flesh they left, is yours.
These bones belong to you, and you too are missing your eyes.
My family mourns me and my people hides.
But when we come out to take the streets,
We won’t be able, no matter how hard we try,
We won’t be able to be an innocent town no more,
We will not be a town that trusts, we will be fire, light, sound and wind.
We will be the redeeming army.
The hurricane that takes away the ashes so the future may come.
We will be the winged death of justice that values reason and holds their weapons with strength to impose.
My people will be the return of justice and history.
Julio César Mondragón was born in México City.
He was killed and tortured in Iguala, Guerrero
On September 27, 2014.
Since September 26, 43 students from Ayotzinapa have been missing.
They were shot and detained by police officers.
They took them alive.
We want them back alive.