A Woman's Place is in the Struggle: Stolen (1973)
First four lines blew me away.
The men
Came back deformed
With morgues
For eyes
And every night
Became a parrilla
Your mother’s dress
Was a massacre
The stench of rape
Was heavy in the air
Of the interrogation rooms
Butchered corpses were
Piled into mass graves
Allende’s blown out brain was
Smeared across the streets
So the soulless
Could stamp on our dreams
The ashes of books
And missing people
Still grieve in the windThey took our
Beacon of democracy
And chained it inside
A corroded trunk
And now university students
Sit picking the padlock
In the darkness
