CHILDREN OF THE ISLAND

Though we all have different mothers, though our fathers have different names and even if we do not know where they are, we know we are children of the island.

Island children on this island. We are not brothers, although we call ourselves brothers. Unfortunately, many of us are not even friends. But we are all together.

One day, sickness arrived, then fear, the news of war arrived and –it must be said– joy arrived also, and kisses like a healing rain, and we were all together.

The news of the death of our friend arrived and then we were all friends, and we were all brothers, and we were –it must be said– also fathers and mothers because we were all together, because we were always together.

Islands on the island, we dance the same strange dance and we celebrate without words the same light, because it is ours, it is the shared gift, a gift that loses all its worth in the hands of individual greed. Here we are together, in this poem, and –it must be said– also outside its walls. Yes, there, next to you, look up: We are all together, we are the children of the same island.