the first dead person i ever saw
hanged
with a cable around his neck
i was five
hyenas and snakes threw red paint at him
staining my middle school’s street—
they dragged me to the mountain where the pitch-black shadow of our city reigned
my knees bled and like a water stream
it ran through the cracks of the ground
i had just turned fifteen
joined the rebels and yelled “¡Libertad!”
our flags danced against the strong currents of burning smoke
the colors of gold, water, and blood filled the streets like fire ants
we held the country’s seven starred flag high—the true flag
the snakes laughed and their tongues flicked
we tore our school uniforms and used bits and pieces to cover our noses and
that was our war armor
we marched
they stood like giant walls one next to each other in front of us on the other side of the street —
a line of dominos like the ones our tíos and papás played while sipping thick tabacos on sunday
nights
thousands of rebels yelled and sang together “¡Venezuela, no estás sola!”
they threw gas bombs and shot at us with their man-made weapons
the grey smoke covered what once was a blue sky and we could not see anything but our bare feet
some blinded kids ran towards them — others ran backwards
remembering their parents in their houses built of yellow colors and inherited tambores
a gunshot invaded our senses and everything
stopped
a boy—not much older than me—his head against the hard ground and like my knees’ blood
filled the cracks
so did his
the last dead person i saw
laid
with bullet holes around his head
i was seventeen
