from a wonderful new book from White Pine Press, called With Eyes and Soul - Images of Cuba (with poems by Nancy Morejon and photographs by Milton Rogovin) this poem by Nancy Morejon:
Hour of Truth (IX)

And I sing in Cuba.
Sing in my native tongue forever.
Young people pass by with their tufts of red hair
floating in the wind of Revolution,
its prow turned to the sun of our New World.
And I swim above the city,
and above the sudden change in the city,
And above its latest generation.
and we're building and building, higher than our isolation,
higher than their profiteering.
Here's where I want to be.
Crossing bridges, rivers, centrifuges.
I dip myself in nickel:
-I unearth the bird's tongue.
How lovely is my land
  ¶ 8:22 AM