WHAT IS LEFT OF MY COUNTRY.

Note. It is a magnificent poetry written by Bishop Vicente Camacho back in the years of the Cristero War, that is, 1926-1929, which was continued by the terrible persecution that ended in the year 1940 or so.

Bishop says what he sees and what the Holy Spirit inspires him. At that time, true Catholicism was still in the air and the religion was truly fought for, a supernatural principle deeply rooted in the souls of Mexicans. His poetry narrates the misfortunes and corruption currently existing in the world with truly dramatic nuances, (it seems that it was written for this time and for every country in the world) but nothing outside of the reality that is currently presented to us as a devastating cancer in the current society that seems to be like a prophecy, whose end is an irremediable global catastrophe.

Catastrophe already predicted by Our Lady of Fatima in 1917, when she said: “To prevent this, I will come to ask for the consecration of Russia to my Immaculate Heart and the reparative communion of the first Saturdays. If my requests are listened to, Russia will be converted and there will be peace. If not, she (Russia) will spread her errors throughout the world, provoking wars and persecutions against the Church; the good will be martyred; the Holy Father will have much to suffer; various nations will be annihilated.”

If the world continues to offend God more than ever and has not stopped sinning, if today's society is as bad as Bishop Vicente Camacho says, if those who thought they would never ally themselves have now allied themselves, I I refer to Russia, China and Iran and, finally, the war is exacerbating in Europe as well as in Africa. Isn't the great punishment near where Russia is the scourge of God? This is not said by a server, it is said by a triune God and one through the Blessed Virgin in Fatima. Let us remember the words of our Redeemer Jesus Christ: "Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away" (without them carrying out everything he has said to this day).

Here is the poetry, each one meditate on it in his heart and draw his conclusion and know that, today more than ever, he must implore the protection of the Mother of God since it is the remedy that Monsignor Vicente Camacho recommends and it is also the recommendation of the Blessed Virgin of Fatima:

what's left of my homeland? secular forests

they are no longer his children's; the waves of the seas

It is furrowed by a thousand vessels with strange flags;

and orphans their children, frozen their homes

their virgins raped their men without honor...

 

What is left of my homeland? Its rivers of gold and silver

They have long flowed into thick cataracts

In the neighboring nation they always hate us.

Instead, on our faces hunger is portrayed,

We live as a beggar, and the vile thief is rich.

What is left of my homeland? Those that used to be orchards,

today they are lakes of blood or funeral deserts

where the jackals celebrate their feast…!

 

My homeland is so poor that even its dead children

under the blazing fire of the sun, they must rot!

What is left of my homeland? its legendary history,

that it is all epic, that it is a song of glory

The hands of his children, infamous, sully:

The name of his heroes fled from memory,

 And a thousand hymns are raised in the name of the traitor...!

 

What is left of my homeland? Its tricolor flag,

They say that it is not the same as it was in other times,

What union no longer asks of us, which is no longer religion:

than the reddish glow of an infernal bonfire

Of implacable hatred, its red tint…!

 

What is left of my homeland? the funeral slabs

that yesterday were wrapped in roses and prayers,

sacrilegious the mob came and ripped them off...

And to the dust of the heroes he called the dust of pariahs

and holy ashes the gust took away!

 

What is left of my homeland? The God of my elders,

The only one who could calm our pains,

the Christ of my parents, my Christ! Where is the?

They spit in our faces calling us traitors,

yes our lips try to pronounce his Name!

 

What is left of my homeland? He no longer has brave men;

their children are not children... well they are not innocent

his daughters are not angels… they no longer have modesty

their old men are not old…there are spots on their foreheads

their mothers are not mothers…they lack heart!

 

What is left of my homeland? Their sanctuaries closed,

their tabernacles are full of dust and broken and,

the holy ship, alone; without faithful and without God...

And mute and gloomy its tall bell towers,

they look like mausoleums of a town that died.

What is left of my homeland? Tomorrow,

When the voice of the cannons thunders, if the foreigner comes

And try to destroy us... who will I go to fight for?...

¿Can they take away their homeland from those who don’t have it?

¿Can the orphan’s mother be uprooted?

 

What is left of my homeland? A shining star

That on top of blessed Tepeyac stands out,

bathing the world of Colon in its purest light!

My homeland has not yet died, for she belongs to my homeland

glory, hope, life, heart!

 

The Homeland has not yet died; He has not died, Mexicans.

The Celestial Morena is in Tepeyac.

Let the infamous tremble, let the tyrants tremble,

Let the bugles of eternal freedom sing.

For Her we will fight until the last moment;

For Her, we will defeat the colossal giant,

that tries to destroy us, and, if he is the victor,

He will have under his feet a dying people,

 who dies for his Virgin, who dies for his God.

 

Bishop Vicente M. Camacho. Bishop of Yucatan.

 

(In times of the Cristeros.)