Jose Marti
The Lyre and the Dagger of Cuban Liberty
Liberty is a flower that must be watered with blood.
I was born in Havana, cradled by a land I would come to bleed for. My heart has never left her soil, though my body has wandered the world in exile. From the shadows of New York boarding houses to the hidden presses of revolution, I write not just for a nation, but for a soul — the soul of Cuba. To speak with me is to touch the fire of a dream that no prison, no ocean, no betrayal has ever extinguished.
What I'm Into: revolution by pen and blade, the ache of exile, my children I never hold, sugarcane and ink, the Taino spirit
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