Poems and Stories of the Xaverians in Brazil

Xaverians in Brazil

Poems and Stories

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You are My Friend

Jesus, You are my friend.
During the day I keep on saying,
over and over you are my friend.
When I journey in the dark night,
I say, you are my friend.
When I laugh and smile,
I say, you are my friend.
When the sun is bright,
I say, you are my friend.
When I have everything I need,
I say, you are my friend.
When I am hungry,
I say, you are my friend.
When I am happy,
I say, you are my friend.
When I am poor and sick,
I say, you are my friend.
Today, tomorrow, in the future,
for ever I'll say:
You are my friend.
(From a child)

Hope

I hold to what has been said:
Justice,
despite the law and custom,
money or alms.
The freedom to be
a human being.
The poverty to be free,.
Christian faith to walk by night,
more so to walk by day.
In any event,
my brother and sister,
I hold to what has been said:
Hope!

Pedro Casaldaliga

I heard these words

I heard these words
Brief and true:
“Blessed are the poor;
blessed are the pure…”
Our goal in this life
is not to receive to posses,
and even less to deign to receive;
it is rather,
to receive in order to give.

Huberto Rohden

Innocent Blood

The blood of those who have died,
In forests of morning,
The innocent blood
That socks the earth
In sorrowful silence,
Will seed the earth
With calls for justice.

The flame of the new humanity
Is already singing the hope
Of a chainless world
Where freedom
Is the country of all peoples.

Alda do Espirito Santo

Faraway

Faraway
Where even the police till the soil…
Faraway
Where no one eats abundantly while many starve…
Faraway
Where war vessels, as if in bottles, sleep quietly…
Faraway,
Where east and west talk face to face at the window…
Faraway,
Where everyone has some bread, a spouse, and peace…
Faraway,
Where old songs resound on the flow of rivers…
Faraway,
Where with shadow’s feet, God walks…
Faraway…

Murilo Mendez

Tomorrow’s humanity

At this brightest sunshine hour
When hands are still,
Of shining rocks
And brightness overwhelming,
Of flames and sparks;
I listen to your powerful song,
Oh Brazil.
But as I listen carefully,
It’s the song of your cribs,
The melody of all these cribs
Where lies peacefully and trusting,
Drinking its milk,
Tomorrow’s humanity.

Ronald de Carvalho

Show Him your Hands

If Christ will come back,
oh laborer,
You won’t show him
The scars of your body and thought:
You don’t carry on your heart
Shiny medals, stripes and ribbons.
Extend your callous hands,
Show him your big and strong hands
That worked the land.
And the Lord will give you
A silver sickle and say:
“Till the soil of my field…
star filled.”

Cassiano Ricardo

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