a Scripture of Terror in Colombia , that writing announced and spread by sick minds and hatred infertile, has a long history. It is a book that seeks to create in the man alluded to, the tingle of your skin when you get up with the frost of fear and his breath stirred a dull buzz becomes a worm stuck in their mouth. It is a book that handcuff the man whom it is addressed, the inertia of their own helplessness, stirs your emotions unknown dimensions and upsets his own interiority. Fearing the man becomes a living dead to walk everyday, to disguise their body with clothes outside and different thoughts.
are many symbolic meanings of the Scripture perverse: representation of death that comes without announcement, the Chinese fear as drip hits the conscience; uncertainty that covers the eyes with the dark perpetual suspicion and distrust towards the close circle of family affection and love, the imaginary prelude growing hatred and revenge against an unseen enemy.
Perhaps the first example of the Scripture, is found in the certificate of citizenship in the fifties, a role that the official seal bore witness if he had voted or not elections to elect as President Laureano Gomez. Carrying the document displayed in a retainer or any requisition of the forces of institutional order call was simply to sign the death penalty: the carrier did not vote, so it was liberal or communist, and immediately stood in line to receive after the explosive detonation of firearms or sharp knife cut violent sinking in cruelty in your body, to mark the traces of an ideological discourse. The use of the tie, pledge of party identification by color, also became a kind of Writing Terror: in cafes in Bogotá, a red tie that was combined with the dark clothes and hat, gray cloth, he was forced to swallow his own, as a sign of derision public policy.
2
The poet lives in his own fear , the shadow is surprised when for fear it leaves your body. The poet has changed its habits, should remain the same, but no one becomes aware that it is the same man. Abandoned public life, said plates and doors of his apartment, closets, intercoms, as if he and his house hiding armored. Change the relationship with the family, his life have hidden fear for his own. To go out and do so with confidence always. Beware of casual passersby, trucks parked on the street, the man who waits for a rendezvous in the corner. Her look has become more diligent to look into the faces of a possible man who comes along, sticking to your skin, your eyes, your breathing, fortnight ago, is joined in the distance to the door of his apartment and lights a cigarette after another while standing on the corner dawn in front, looking towards the window of the poet as if it were an inveterate night owl, the poet and man are like Siamese twins with simultaneous movements and gestures, silent assemblies, never before presented for signs of blood.
Voice caged in a premeditated silence again foreshadowing the announcement of the threat decreed in writing: the poet picks up the phone nervous in the hours of the morning, no answer, just listen to the purr of a cough inaudible, the poet releases the device brought uncertainty and not fall asleep, the phone rings, it is raised, not answered, the other side of the line meets the ominous rumble of a cough. Try to sleep hugging the body of his companion, who wakes up has not lost its hustle details nervous. Open eyes on the poet, leafless trees fall like hundreds of butterflies who are fleeing the dream could not catch them. He seeks refuge by crying silently dying as a monosyllabic, fragments of a poem of his, "scratchpad" Every friend is alive in my notebook. / Your name written there recreates my affection / printed red signs in babbling blue / in dark green keys in poring slogan or line their own paradise ./... And if he gets a friend, a partner / as black beam that stiffens their steps / must clear their names of wine or doves / and so the van crossing my fingers trembling. /
Perhaps he would also like to delete your name from your address book notes, to become invisible as a man and a presence in undecipherable arabesque, lost and crushed in small white pages.
The poet has received three pamphlets with death threats, for presiding over an institution of solidarity with Cuba and the innocence of his actions and his firm, which others use as political and ideological rubble.
3
In the field , in late 49 and early 50, that Book of Terror had its highlights, in time to save the life, honor and property, the Liberals had to change their thinking and writing political tradition: in front of two witnesses, man or men castrated and left for life thinking, writing their name, card number and with his signature, as witness the mayor, the priest or the Conservative leader, man or men read aloud half the public square in his hometown, the following document:
"We, the undersigned citizens of Colombia, of age, identity cards under the numbers listed below in full enjoyment of our faculties, our absolute and spontaneously, without pressure or coercion of any guidelines on how strong and proud and under penalty of perjury, before God and men, and in the presence of witnesses declare: That
protest the Liberal Party and to remain in its ranks soldiers before, because that party is that of anarchy, moral disruptive, detrimental to order and morality and the Catholic Church, as demonstrated by the April 9 . From today belong to the Conservative Party, which alone constitutes the heritage bequeathed by the Founding Father. We swear to defend the Conservative Party to death. "
The man or men were no longer, but finally in the lagoon of their sorrows, they preserved their lives.
The symbolic representation of the Book of Terror had its gross advances in public demonstrations, for example, in the doors and windows of those who were targeted for death, painted red crosses rough. Also, the voice began to replace the written word: a boy of fifteen with acute and melodious voice gave a serenade in the early morning hours, before the house of the family chosen for the rite of collective death. And it was not by chance, the day after the family united in their blood had ceased to exist by reason of his political thought: well were simple results of the serenade.
After the script would crumpled papers developing a sound: that of death. The balanced pulse fingers of the murderer, after shooting with patience crossed off the names of the victims and mission accomplished, the crumpled paper returned to pocket. The official or vigilante assassin memorized the following name: the gun ready, oiled still hidden in the waistband, rested and dreamed that night.
With the resurgence of partisan violence in the decade of the fifties, the Scripture of Terror began to be written as a lasting imprint on the human body, dark-written script edge of the knife and machete, examples collected by Germain Guzmán Campos, in his formidable text, Violence in Colombia, part descriptive: To "leave no seed, women coming to give birth, they did the cesarean, changing the fetus by a rooster, "to not let the seed" was to deny the man of the opposite party the right to procreation, the "cut flannel" was a deep wound to the throat near the trunk, running with a sharp force machete on top of the neck, the "tie cut" was made with some skill through an incision below the lower jaw where posed as the victim's tongue, the language was hoisted on the neck, and waving in the air, with the "cut mica, the decapitated victim was leaving his head on his chest, the" French cut "ran stripping the victim alive, scalp, to represent the disgusting spectacle of a whitish, bloody skull, the "ear cutting" was checking the murder and the number of victims killed, the submission of the cardboard box full of ears preserved in lime, the "bird" or murderer received the agreed payment to the politician or the landowner.
late of the fifties and early sixties, that Scripture took on other forms of terror for his funeral announcements. In the departments of central Mexico, in the early morning or night, were heard on the radio programs with music dedications to loved ones: the love song with lyrics and beautiful memories, for dramatic irony became holy signal and receiving the murderer who listened to the radio, to meet immediately after the commitment to shoot on the life chosen. Around the same time, in public places in the bark of trees, stones in the roads appeared on stage with the withering phrase written: Wanted ... next to the photograph of the robber was accompanied by his long record and highlighted the economic value of the reward. It thus created a culture of collective accusation that has been raging in recent history. Then he would write other meanings to the public display of shot man's body: the coffin stopped and the procession headed by politicians and landowners who had supported and used in life, fake spat with hatred, his mourners wept as their victims crucified Him with insults, kicked him with the fury that carries the pain of the loss of a loved one. And the body of the man, about to break down continued its round display by all populations in northern Tolima.
Writing Terror The other contrarespuestas allegedly assumed messianic in defense of revolutionary principles, when read historical voice also order the shooting of fellow traveler on behalf of the people in the camps of the armed insurgency. The shelves of military brigades began to fill with spurious and accusatory word, in speeches and little scope Law in intelligence, against whom they accused of subversive and their supporters.
4
The poet makes suitcase. Not exactly an expert at making bags for travel. Awkward for certain daily offices of man, for example, doubling the memory in endless folds, it needs an expert watchmaker diligence, searching for the most beautiful space of nostalgia, requires the rapid flight of the butterfly's pure wishful pollen retain for a moment the random image of the loving, mean thirst licking stone lost in the wilderness back to the voice of the return of instant photography, is like hitting the door walled infinitely in the fullness of the night to sort hundreds letters written by the hands of time, becomes a huge effort to put your finger on the heart of the white elephant. The suitcase open the jaws of time walking behind the shadow that looks the way the rest of a great and an old tree. The poet ends up making a lot knotted ties and memories, old shirts and sweat, deodorants and photographs, eventually crammed into the suitcase and anxiety burly man placed his knees on the leather and closes with a padlock.
Then, after eight days of thinking, in a few minutes put in a tula books that will be your company in a journey that others have found for him with the threat of a weapon on the head: All Neruda, all Alberti, all Vallejo, Joyce's Ulysses. He also labored for the time that runs like a bird of ill omen in the morning without reviewing the original package makes it possible to see the light of other eyes as readers in the future.
When he leaves his apartment and star gaze upon that street that has always been an eternal wanderer, the truth is that the poet feels collapse of life and body, the skin becomes public crying. Other streets in the world will be accompanied by their heavy steps. The car crazy with speed, while the poet is discussed in the confusion of his thoughts that are not yet the clarity of the firefly in the night full of rain, the rain finally closed. The electronic controls of the entrances to the airport can not detect the sadness of the poet, floating in the air like a flower that awakens the day. Before passing the customs controls, the poet retains the strength to hold on to his eight year old daughter, fleeing her eyes off the girl's eye, words have no sense of the promise of a speedy reunion. The daughter understands with playful laughter, you may be imagining a boat ride as near as the flight of the butterfly crossed by the colors of the rainbow. Then the poet embraces the huge arms to the body of his companion, his voice comes out the secret of life fruitful love, companionship and commitment, gait and miss two voices combine breath whispers and dreams in the mornings. Then walk with the score of the blind to be mounted immediately in that plane, which the engines turn is transformed into a huge cloud which surrounds the eye of the planet and run by a huge river and are lost in the immensity of the mountain.
5
In the morning he repeated the ru been strident handset, it sounded like a macabre melody, as he fell apart the door of the house or apartment, in the raid was scanned to the deepest of personal memories in the fog of old photographs. The question was accompanied by the coup in the face with a kick in the stomach, with immersion of the head in cold water and finally, as a result of the relentless torture, the torturer happy obtained the confession of the victim in the haunting shadows of more human suffering. Writing was the winning of terror imposed by the Security Statute. Bogota had become a city steeped in the mist of a rain-laden silence and omens. In the eighties
be imposed other models of writing, homage and slavish copy of how he writes his messages the Italian mafia, wrapped in gift paper, came at the hands of small, carved coffins target, began to notice the walls funeral notices inviting the funeral of the man who had died; a day in glorious afternoon sunshine, fell into the grass of the Pascual Guerrero Cali, in the middle of a tough game between America and Cali, the rain of paper with writing in announcing the appearance of the group called MAS. Would be the beginning of a very familiar dirty war against rebels who had become the mere thought of than the establishment. The Deed of Terror was built a long history, to build a whole symbolism about the mediations between life and death, the fear took on the appearance of being social, when it became fully collective and began to walk with the revolver in hand.
6
The wandering poet oceanfront Malecon in Havana. Play with the child's imagination to reinvent everything. The immensity of the sea opens its limits in the eyes of the poet, she reveals the secrets of memory slips flying as a newly opened wound, on the edge of a knife murderer. The sea allows the poet to play with the swing of lifting heavy folds swell to flood the ocean sky Neruda, pregnant with infinite blue. The poet revives the remoteness of that geography of a country that flows and runs his own blood. The tidal wave that lifts his body several feet in height, took the beginning and end of the knot of the mountain range that runs after going through voluminous a breath of the country is carrying, the sea storms and peaceful resting his vision expands on that river who opens his big mouth to drink vast waters of the Atlantic Ocean which receives its dead floating in the water the color of blood, like an old friend of trips deep, the sea built homes, buildings and streets of a city that thickly covered the existence of more than 2700 meters above sea level and the poet tries to walk on his own footprints to reach the voice that had long been called by their names to all your friends, the sea in quiet lulls an old dream of the poet him like a leader of thousands, in various parks harangue that mass restless with all the poems of his favorite poets, roaring mass in tone and with the movement of the force involved in the passion for what he loves dearly. The sea is following in the footsteps of the poet, when walking slow because of the length of the Malecon cement and hearing him say in secret, with all his wisdom: "Poet, all nostalgia draw lines on the map of man and you balance them with the pain and the distance image, located around the world ... "Alegre, the poet tried to run but your body accustomed to cigarettes and alcohol, obedient only walked the steps as usual. The poet as a breath of life is rocking the full beard, look forward and walk with your head up, like writing prose poetic. The sea of \u200b\u200bfriendly knots accompanied by tidal waves, damping each poetic achievement in their thoughts.
7
Today on Bogota a troubled winter looms: at the crossroads of the streets, in the light of day is divided into leaflets again Writing Terror threatens with pistol in hand and words of death, thought and independent lives. The gross Writing has become public policeman gestures, laughter, hugs and love secrets. This Scripture also has invaded as a growing plague classrooms of colleges and universities in rounds of relentless censorship against those who build knowledge and culture. The same is true in areas where human rights are discussed. Then, with the will to impose fear when you display your laughter, writers, journalists, anthropologists, teachers, opened their bags to imprison in their mouths all the memories, and any night furtive and hidden in the mist, he decides a trip to the strength, warm with the hope that resonates deep within the limits of human geography. You may also return to the country, the time of the silence that makes the man a helpless, mute in his gestures, his thoughts autism, riddled with the fear that shakes the look and quiets the heart rhythm, as if trapped in a huge cave cockroaches.
8
The poet walks slowly through the winding streets of Old Havana. Lost, by the way distant thoughts in those labyrinths that seem to cross streets shaking hands and hugging poachers in areas that never find the door, window and ladder and suddenly the light falls like a beam of bright lines in unexpected rain. The poet José Luis Díaz Granados remembered as punch to the chin, the painful experience as if I had heard before him, the great Argentine poet, Juan Gelman: "I think that it is a harsh punishment of exile. For the Greeks the exile was a harsh punishment, worse than death. I know it is not exactly true, but yet you know it and you're feeling. "Of course he is feeling, his life off right now as endless stream of anxious and thirsty thousands of fire ants, latitudes of memories and nostalgia , field of dreams and I walk, affected spaces and misunderstandings. Exile is hard to walk to force in other places, provided with feet and other thoughts. The uprooting acquired the stature of the skeleton: the bones fall apart in the dusk of winter in the desert. But the critical attitude of the poet's other bridges of compensation: life is open to new blank pages to be written, with the value it takes to survive on the edge of a deep precipice.
The poet knows in the months you have lived in the sunshine of this wonderful town and the word gesture of solidarity that the people in each of their hugs: you must write to the frenzy of someone who is about to be executed in the scaffold, written as salvation and gun at once, the word that creates beauty and leads man to enjoy deep inner emotions. We know that the poet is writing as a lifeline. The Deed of Terror must be to end a retaining wall one day very soon, so that travelers to the force can return to their private territory, together with the cry of friendship and embrace durable. The Writing Life sown wilted flowers on the grave of the Book of Terror.
The poet holds its breath, gives a momentary pause its memory and awakens longings in the final lines of his poem "Phone Book" and mumbles like drinking water from a giant glass jar:
Today however, anxious to colors,
eager to be alive among the living, how I wish to tell
both friend
there will be no erasures on my agenda, the colors will
to remember that I dial the number of smiles:
red, for which manufactures sighs
the blue for the hidden on other days,
green, for the companion of letters and struggles
and black, indelible
colorless misery to sink in the mud the name of the beast!
The last picture of the Master Alape in Cali. 
