NATIONAL COMMITTEE TO FREE THE CUBAN FIVE
Comité Nacional por la Libertad de los Cinco Cubanos

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Steel Flowers

by Iraida Ma. Hernández Prado
Mar. 9, 2009
Reprinted from Invasor

Antonio, Gerardo, Ramón, René and Fernando keep the smile and the dignity in spite of more than 10 years of unjust prison. Some lessen the distance from the people they love by means of poetry; others draw lines and paint brushstrokes that create portraits or humorous touches.

The Cuban Five reach the hearts of their relatives and friends with their letters and telephone calls, accomplices of their love for life, even though sometimes it can be very tough.

They miss the kisses of the children they did not see growing, the caress of their mothers, or the possibility to hug their beloved women. The support of their relatives has been critical, especially, the firmness of the women, who have kept their heads up high and hidden the sorrow of their souls. Their faces provide the Cuban Five with love and strength.

Mirtha Rodríguez speaks about his son Tony as if caressing him with her voice. She knows he is happy on pouring his love on the plastic arts and the poetry, and it encourages and encourages him to keep on creating his work.

Elizabeth Palmeiro feels the way her soul shakes when evoking the love poems by Ramón, her husband. She misses him every day, but she does not give in to the fight for the triumph of justice over politics.

Olga Salanueva’s look shimmers when she mentions René, the man she chose to share her life, the father of Irmita and Ivette. She admits that sometimes her eyes have been watered, but never before the enemies.

Rosa Aurora Freijanes evokes Fernando, the lover whom she fills with happiness on every encounter, while requesting the increase of international solidarity in favour of the Cuban Five so that the truth can be known by the dignified people of the United States.

Adriana Pérez vibrates when she listens to Gerardo on the phone. Her faces is lighted up and the words sprout precise from her lips, even though the heart beats as if forcing to come out of her chest.

Ordinary women, who dream, work, cook, wash, or walk on Cuban streets. Heroines who lead their daily existences, columnists of integrity pages they never requested to write, they very well know that on standing as a robust trunk its Five branches will always be supported.

 

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