Rosario

The emerald

The mysteries of Territory & Extraction

Virgin of the Remedy of the Flesh,

You who arrived with the navigators and blessed their weapons before they even touched the coast, guide us. They that looking for gold found in green the invention of a senseless price. O sacred land, you give so much you have forgotten how many arrive here without any true feeling.

 

Hail, violated territory, full of scars and bottomless pits. The Lord is with you in every tunnel that swallow lives like mosquito swallow blood. Blessed are you among the stones, and blessed is the fruit of your womb: the emerald and the greed it names. Holy Mary, mother of the hand that digs and the lung that fills with dust, pray for us who excavate and for those who from the distance can desire and spend, now and at every hour of our workday.

 

Glory be to the territory that refuses to be a map, to the mountain that holds its own punishment inside, and to the river that runs poisoned but still runs.

As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, for ages upon ages of extraction. Amen.

 

The mysteries of Conflict & Violence

Virgin of the Remedy of the Flesh,

You who covered with your mantle both the one who work the mine at gunpoint and the one who dressed peasants as guerrillas, you who are the voice at the moment the trigger is pulled. Kind mother of murderers, help of the enchanted youth, you have always been on the side of the one with the most power.

 

Hail, war named and sold, that spread the same blood against itself to save another’s greed. The Lord is with you in every bullet that travels like a holy miracle. Blessed are you among the mass graves, and blessed is the fruit of your womb: oblivion and the noise of the dead. Holy Mary, mother of marksmanship and hitmen, pray for us, the cannon flesh, now and at the hour of our final execution.

 

Glory be to the neutral rifle, to the celebration of fear, and to the mother who weeps without a face left to hate.

As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, for ages upon ages of extraction. Amen.

 

The mystery of Peace

Virgin of the Remedy of the Flesh,

You who witnessed the agreements signed on desks and broken on the soil. You know the sound of peace but not its weight; you turn peace into a fragile suspension. Bless us intermittently, blind us with your sacred mantle, so that we might remember only enough to kill under your command.

 

Hail, fragile arrangement, of such delicate structure that you tear apart at the slightest touch. The Lord is with you in every signed word that trembles. Blessed are you among the agreements, and blessed is the fruit of your womb: the waiting. Holy Mary, mother of survivors and superiors, pray for us, now and at the hour of our constant next discord.

 

Glory be to the paper that cannot stop a bullet, to the embrace offered with a rifle on the shoulder, to the peace that rests wounded for a moment and then takes flight.

As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, for ages upon ages of extraction. Amen.