~~~

My name is Brasil.

I was born in 1822 and I have survived,

Willfully,

Over two centuries.

~~~

I have seen the slaves that were brought from Africa to

Work in the sugarcane plantations 

That Gilberto Freyre

Wrote about in casa grande e senzala;

~

I have seen wars of many kinds,

And the atrocities committed by our great dictator

In the land that was freed originally 

By King Dom Pedro;

~

I have seen me disrobed in the heart of Amazonia

 In broad daylight, with such apathy,

To cultivate soja that would feed the chickens 

In faraway China;

~

I have seen the hardwood that once belonged to

Magnificent tall trees of my bosom,

Cut open,

To make dead furniture for our brethren in the cultured Europe;

~

While I had some life-force left,

My heart was callously drilled deep, to extract the oil that has 

Carefully preserved ancient memories over the centuries,

Only to power more humans and machines.

~~~

~~~

I weep helplessly. I am forsaken by everyone. 

I am alone.

I need children to play with me but the children are busy

Playing with their mobile devices;

~

I need grandma and grandpa to converse with me.

But they are numbed by the many soap operas

On this magical box named 

Television;

~

I do not want to be in prolonged sorrow;

~

Ariano Suassuna wrote:

 ‘An optimist is a fool and a pessimist is a bore;

I would rather be a hopeful realist’.

~

I am positively hopeful that my fellow country men

Would appreciate the land that once belonged

To their ancestors and not trammel

it entirely with utter selfishness.

~~~

Thanks to our king Dom Pedro who over

A polite conversation with his father and

Mother pleaded that I be 

Freed;

~

The king of Portugal did not want to 

Let go of

This succulent place

 With plenty of resources;

~

After many a coercion,

I was delivered via 

Caesarean 

means.

~~~

~~~

Our dear Machado da Assis was a little child then,

And little did the world know that he

Would become a great 

Story teller;

~

I have seen him as a little boy,

Playing with his parents in the country

Courtyards 

of  Rio.

~~~

Rio, a magical place for many, yet the freed slaves

Were never offered a place to integrate;

With much sadness they moved to the periphery

And lived in scanty sheds with plenty of violence and bloodshed.

~~~

~~~

I have enough resources but my country folks

Prefer Brahma and Skol over coconut water and suco natural.

I have been usurped umpteen number of times

By people with vested interests, that I am left with no more tears;

~

At times, the wails of the mother

Whose son was murdered brutally in the favela Alemão

Would flow through the labyrinths filled with shards

Of Heineken and vodka bottles;

~

Those million little pieces comfort the tears momentarily,

Allowing myriad of sun rays to play with them, creating a beautiful rainbow;

Rainbow on an otherwise hot sunny day, a towering witness to

Many unfilled dreams of those countless dead souls in nosso favela.

~~~

My men are in chains. 

They struggle. 

They seek solace in the 

Digital world.

~

If only they look up at the sky to see the arrara azuls 

That carries açai to

Victorius‘ friend Julia 

In Manaus;

~

 If only our ever-caring politicians not throw wool over the eyes of the public,

If only the meaningless bureaucracy that

Chokes one and all so much is banished,

Nosso jetinho brasileiro might be abolished.

~~~

I have witnessed joy and sorrow 

In equal measure,

And may I dutifully ask my dear country folks: 

What does ‘Freedom’ mean to You ?

~~~

O dia sete de setémbro, 

O que é isso

Do think about it.

~~~

Modernity can come only at the loss of history.

Progress cannot be made without understanding history…

~~~