Faced with a few friends gathered on April 2 in the main square of Cuernavaca [Mexico], reported the weekly Proceso, Javier Sicilia recites a poem dedicated to Juan Francisco, his son murdered. Then he looks up and says: 'The world is not worthy of writing, this is my last poem. I can not write poetry, poetry no longer exists in me '.
"A few days earlier, on March 28 at Temixco, a hundred miles south of Mexico City, police discovered seven bodies bound and gagged in an abandoned car in the street. All showed signs of torture. Among the bodies piled up in the trunk, one the son of Javier Sicilia, poet, writer, scholar and collaborator Procesoainsi that the leftist daily La Jornada.
Until the abduction and assassination of his son - and three of his young friends - Javier Sicilia was a respected poet, and sought rather rewarded for its philosophical and literary skills as for his political commentary. Catholic Left, an admirer of St. John of the Cross and the Spanish poet Luis Cernuda, he had received in 2009 one of the most prestigious literary awards in the country, the poetry prize Aguascalientes.
Rather than retreat into the pain and just give up poetry, Javier Sicilia has chosen to fight: against violence against "these young men and women sacrificed to the four corners of our country." But especially "against the war launched by the President [of Mexico] Calderon against organized crime that killed them, and also against the political leaders of this country who have lost all sense of honor." Just days after being laid to rest Juan Francisco Javier Sicilia wrote in the columns of Proceso: "We are tired because in this country, there remains more imaginative than violence, for weapons, for insult.
"And because of that, he continued," our youth, our children are murdered. We can not accept it. It is high time to make the country's dignity. "And, suiting the action to the word, the poet summoned for April 6 demonstrations of solidarity across the country. Thousands of people gathered in nearly forty cities, taking up the cry of anger - "Estamos hasta la madre" [we raz-le-bol] - launched by Sicilia in Proceso.
A real show of solidarity with a grief-stricken father, some commentators note, a sign that civil society has finally awakened, say the others, even though the number of fatalities approaching 40 000, since President Calderón in 2006 launched its war against drug trafficking and cartels.
Indefatigable Javier Sicilia was not content with this first success. May 5, he went off to Cuernavaca, with hundreds of supporters, to join three days later the heart of the capital. Their slogan? "Not one more death!" On arrival, they were at least 85,000 and promised to meet in June in Ciudad Juárez, a city of this martyr narcos war, with more than 3,000 victims in 2010.
But "the most important in the march led by a poet, La Jornada emphasized is that, given the incompetence of the authorities, civil society has built in caller groups criminal bloodshed in the country." 
"A few days earlier, on March 28 at Temixco, a hundred miles south of Mexico City, police discovered seven bodies bound and gagged in an abandoned car in the street. All showed signs of torture. Among the bodies piled up in the trunk, one the son of Javier Sicilia, poet, writer, scholar and collaborator Procesoainsi that the leftist daily La Jornada.
Until the abduction and assassination of his son - and three of his young friends - Javier Sicilia was a respected poet, and sought rather rewarded for its philosophical and literary skills as for his political commentary. Catholic Left, an admirer of St. John of the Cross and the Spanish poet Luis Cernuda, he had received in 2009 one of the most prestigious literary awards in the country, the poetry prize Aguascalientes.
Rather than retreat into the pain and just give up poetry, Javier Sicilia has chosen to fight: against violence against "these young men and women sacrificed to the four corners of our country." But especially "against the war launched by the President [of Mexico] Calderon against organized crime that killed them, and also against the political leaders of this country who have lost all sense of honor." Just days after being laid to rest Juan Francisco Javier Sicilia wrote in the columns of Proceso: "We are tired because in this country, there remains more imaginative than violence, for weapons, for insult.
"And because of that, he continued," our youth, our children are murdered. We can not accept it. It is high time to make the country's dignity. "And, suiting the action to the word, the poet summoned for April 6 demonstrations of solidarity across the country. Thousands of people gathered in nearly forty cities, taking up the cry of anger - "Estamos hasta la madre" [we raz-le-bol] - launched by Sicilia in Proceso.
A real show of solidarity with a grief-stricken father, some commentators note, a sign that civil society has finally awakened, say the others, even though the number of fatalities approaching 40 000, since President Calderón in 2006 launched its war against drug trafficking and cartels.
Indefatigable Javier Sicilia was not content with this first success. May 5, he went off to Cuernavaca, with hundreds of supporters, to join three days later the heart of the capital. Their slogan? "Not one more death!" On arrival, they were at least 85,000 and promised to meet in June in Ciudad Juárez, a city of this martyr narcos war, with more than 3,000 victims in 2010.
But "the most important in the march led by a poet, La Jornada emphasized is that, given the incompetence of the authorities, civil society has built in caller groups criminal bloodshed in the country."
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