Dear Mr. Timor You,

 

Dear Mr. Timor You, We are in a perilous time; a moment in history when our families and communities are continually exposed to sin. It is a time when evil and darkness have slithered into the very fiber of our Nation. A time when human lives are squandered; a time when many mothers across the Nation have chosen and continue to choose to kill their own children via abortion. As soldiers of Christ we need to defend our Nation against sin. We can make a difference, we can save mothers from sin, we can save unborn lives. We need to take the action that Our Lady has given us and Pray the Rosary. It is our responsibility and we need to help our Nation follow the path of goodness. Since 1973 over 60 million unborn children have been killed, that’s more than the entire population of California and Florida combined! How many of those children could have become great scientists, influential leaders or life changing teachers? How many confused pregnant mothers could have avoided the seductive voice of Satan and the heavy burden of living with the sin of killing their unborn babies. Our Lady of Fatima told us to Pray the Rosary. Together can save America; One Nation Under God. Take a stand against Satan by joining our National Rosary in the Public Square this October 15th. Help lead our families, communities and Nation into the light by becoming a Rosary Rally Captain. Defend America against sin by Praying the Rosary and becoming a Rosary Rally Captain. Click here This year we are planning to have over 20,000 Rosary Rallies across America, led by people like you. That’s 20,000 places in the Nation where God and his laws will be honored and the guiding light of the Rosary will shine bright. Let's make a difference and save this great Nation we can do it! Click here to join me and become a Rosary Rally Captain

I remain your friend, In Jesus and Mary, Robert E. Ritchie Director, America Needs Fatima www.americaneedsfatima.org

Metaphysics

  You can't just do something merely because you want to do it. You can't just wake up out of bed and decide that you want to do something! You have to think first about the people who may disagree with what you want! What about those? Don't they deserve rights? Will their rights be taken away from them by your doing that thing? Ask yourself this long and hard!

Onto Dust We Shall Come By Manuel Ramos Otero

 3

I sing again, leaving death behind,
to take part in the horrible tenderness of love,
that now arrives when life is late,
to be innocent of future wars.
I come again to the eternal night of expectation,
to the sacred prejudice of a unique man,
when I’ve made peace treaties
in the remote sunsets of solitude.
I return to the world as I depart,
having birthed another phantom,
a dweller of nebulous coasts,
a brief enemy of metaphors.
And you are here.
Promising love beyond this century.
Delivering the thirsty rains of summer.
The most accurate painter of human walls.
Animal of another space unbound.
So many clocks devoid of hours are enticing us,
such a great urge, unquenched, is pressing us,
so much hope is only an initiation
into the slow funeral of our perfect joy.
Our time is scant, and so our things:
a stained carpet, two glasses without memories,
a black telephone, a hiding place,
a key to light that locks in sadness
and a recent past that now rejects us.
Walking hand in hand and lost
we’re perplexed again that so much love exists.

4

I don’t love your body but the secret
it dwells in
the cave that covers me at night
only eases darkness.
I love your gaze more than your eyes
always opened when the mouth kisses
with humidity of sea my irregular island
of stormy coasts and jagged rocks.
And more than lies which every love promises
I love reality that gathers us in bed
wearing off our tongues with sea urchins,
growing daggers in the garden of our thighs,
every dead Sunday between our bodies.
When you depart without a flourish,
when I return to a different symphony’s silence,
when you are a man of paper,
a spirit trapped within the poem,
and I can’t define you again in words,
which now defy all nothingness,
we’ll remember things that never happened,
we’ll love each other as we never did,
we’ll search in tombs of sadness
until we find freedom unscathed,
so that time may repair what we have lost.

The Night

Uncommon love, what is night
but that stray body of desire,
but that cruising sweat that in bed
turns the flesh into a sponge of the mouth.
For memory, whatever happened
is now forgotten, only the shadow
is a still tongue, a blushed surprise in the saliva.
How noble is the impotence of the rose,
without a pistil it kisses its own petals,
without hands stripping itself off its own mirrors,
to die at night as it blooms in the word.
Bolts should be placed, that no one may release
the fleeting perfume of the gutters,
at times love must be made on shores
like cats dying in the cold.
I’m in your smile, though you don’t want it,
you’re hidden in my armpits,
dizziness rushes down our wounds.
Already night knows itself nighted.

© Manuel Ramos Otero. Translation © 2022 Cristina Pérez Diaz. All rights reserved.