BARRO, OSSO, FÉ

in the sertão, animals die of thirst.
they die slowly, the way everything dies under that sun.
the sertanejo knows this.
knows it before it happens.
and still he cares. and still he grieves.
and when the animal goes, he doesn't leave it on the ground.
he plants it on the fence.
he raises it.
i don't know exactly what that means.
i know that when i drove those roads and saw the skulls on the barbed wire,
i stopped.
the way i always stop.
there was dignity there.
the dignity of those who have nothing and still offer everything —
even the death of their own.
the sertão is beautiful and it is abandoned.
its people are strong because they were never given a choice.
their faith is vast because their government is small.
and the animals remain on the fences.
guardians of a land that bleeds
and resists
and endures.