It
was the first time I’d ever
heard those words
in
Santiago de Chile in a crowd
packed so tight
that
when I shifted my weight it
rushed
into
that infinitesimal space
lifting me off my feet
upheld by a crush of humanity
carrying banners, raising fists
and jumping
while chanting “El que no brinca
es mumio”
In
one of those jumps I landed on
my feet again
Up
on the outdoor podium
stood Doctor Salvador Allende
presidential candidate
by
his side Pablo Neruda beloved
poet
lending support
Most
everyone knew Neruda’s verses by
heart
Miners, peasants, urban
shantytown dwellers,
women with babies in their arms
Neruda had already
election-stumped with Allende
three times before
every six years through the long
stretch of Chile
Neruda read his poems and urged,
“Vote, vote for Allende”
And
I a foreign poet in the crowd
jostled and thrilled
heard him read and recite in
that stylized way
that
the young poets scorned as old
fashioned
Heard him then and can still
hear him now
I
remember a few days later with
Beatriz
waiting for the light to change
I asked,
“Do
you think Allende will win?”
“If
he does,” she said, stepping off
the curb
“the
oligarchy and multi-national
corporations
will
feel threatened and the danger
will be a coup.”
“What will you do then?”
“Fight!“ she said as we dodged
cars
I
have heard “El Pueblo Unido …”
many times
in
many places since then
and
always wonder what makes me join
the chant
Because I know what happened in
Chile
You
know what happened
Arrests, torture, exile,
privatization,
Pinochet, Kissinger, Nixon,
capitalism
But
it is something about believing
a
collective hope that doesn’t die
It
lives between the street and the
ambiance
It
lives in me
It
lives in you.