a strike where I want to meet everyone.
A strike of arms, legs, hair,
strike someone in each body.
want a strike of workers, drivers of
doves, flowers
technicians,
children of doctors, women.
I want a big strike,
right down to love.
A strike which is still all
the clock, factories
establishment, the school bus
, hospitals
the road, ports.
A strike of eyes, hands, kisses.
A great strike which is not allowed to breathe,
a strike arises where the silence to listen
the steps of the tyrant who leaves.
of the Nicaraguan poet Gioconda Belli
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