Our late mother Jean emphasized for decades that she believed Cuba would make a fine candidate for statehood, were we just to open up our relations all the way.
I’ve always wanted to write this poem.
I loved her but was afraid to die.
Sitting on the balcony she told me: Butterflies live for one day.
One single day of radiance and then they die.
(Marcelo Morales; translated by: Kristin Dykstra)