I watched an interesting program on PBS tonight. About journalists...about people trying to be brave in a world where most of us are forced to follow the crowd and ignore what's happening (or appear like we do). As I watched, I was moved by how brave some people are to stand up to corporations and governments and say what is there. These people are led by proof and evidence as well as conviction.

One story moved me as it was about an event that happened in 1968 in Mexico. Student protests where happening and by sundown the government began to massacre their own people. Horrible.

I found the poem that is in memory of this event by Rosario Castellanos especially moving...it was mentioned by one of the top journalist in Mexico who has a TV program called "Behind the media". Here is the poem:

Memorial of Tlatelolco

By Rosario Castellanos

And who saw that brief, vivid flash of light?
Who is the one who kills?
Who are the ones who breathe their last; who die?
Who are the ones fleeing without their shoes?
Who are the ones belonging to the deep well of jails?
Who are the ones rotting in hospital?
Who are the ones struck dumb, forever, with horror?
Who? Who are the ones? Nobody. The next morning, nobody.
They found the square was swept clean. The front pages of the newspapers were full of the state of the weather. And on the television, on the radio, in the cinema, there was no change of programming, no special announcement. Not any meaningful silence in the midst of the banquet, because the banquet went on.
Don't look for what isn't there: traces, bodies, it's all been given as an offering to a godess, the Great Devourer of Excrement...
There are no official records.
Yet the fact is I can touch a wound.
In my memory it hurts, therefore it's true.
I remember. We remember.
That's our way of helping the very brave on so many a stained mind...
I remember.
Let's all remember until justice becomes clear among us.


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