Poetry: Ashraf AboArafe
Is rebellion truly growing from the soil?
Or is the fire of revolutionaries merely smoke?
Maduro called out while the winds raged into storms:
Shall betrayal follow the dream of Chávez?
O land of Bolívar, how could it be humiliated
By the raven’s greed, as Trump oppresses?
He seeks wealth, while within the conscience lies a civilization,
Sold in the market of blockades and plundered!
Greed takes the form of a tyrannical sword,
In the hand of one who thinks nations can be bought.
Trump imagines my land is a commodity,
While Netanyahu believes time itself obeys him!
Yet in Tehran stands a towering mountain,
Where illusions shatter when lost in delusion.
And upon the soil of Ugarit lies a rock of endurance,
Witnessing through the ages how aggressors are thwarted.
O you who ask about the presence of history:
Can a mere handful or fortresses turn back the tides of destiny?
From Bolívar to liberation burns a ember,
That remains steadfast, while tyrants swiftly pass!
Maduro reclaims full and free sovereignty
From a usurper who thought nations could be herded.
In Caracas, honor sang its victory,
And upon its soil, glory is reborn.
For the sword breaks when a homeland stands firm—
The land remains, while enemies perish!
