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Sep 2018
History isn't made,
Isn't told, isn't its registers.
History is screamed,
Shout without words,
As long the feeling is right.

For every action
There's an unequal voice
Roaring positively haltered,
Farming, dividing, conquering,
Cave by cave,
House by house,
City by city,
Until no desire is spared.

All that's left to do
Is screaming badly,
Be hard and be heard,
Out of tune
For other tunes to be discovered.

Shout, shout,
That's the only way
Reality emerge,
Only by scream, by sound,
That's how to honor
All the silence hidden
In fervent claims.

Shout who you are,
Shout the smell around,
Shout as the flowers could answer,
Shout louder than howls,
Shout hunger and richness,
Shout danger, shout peace.

Only unheard screams
Can be shut by the grave.
Danilo Brito Steckelberg
Written by
Danilo Brito Steckelberg  29/M/São Paulo
(29/M/São Paulo)   
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