The poet bequeathed to us a collective outcry that grows stronger each time an imperial threat tries to desecrate our flag.
There are magnificent poems, those that cannot escape perfection. Accomplished poems, possessing an absolute balance between what is said and how it is said, which leave scholars and certain readers astonished.
There are others, less grandiose, lacking compositional complexity; poems that some believe, though not true, anyone can write; poems that, to experts, do not qualify as great works; and yet, they live in the soul of the people, gaining followers from generation to generation. This category includes "My Flag," written by the poet from Matanzas, Bonifacio Byrne, born on March 3, 1861, 165 years ago.
To remember him on this date, it is worth reviewing his life, marked by two outstanding virtues: that of poet and patriot. The echoes of the libertarian war of 1868 reached his bardic soul; this war had erupted in Cuba when he was barely seven years old. In '95, when the Necessary War broke out, his lyrical voice, which had already borne fruit, abandoned modernist tones to offer itself in the service of the redemptive cause.
His deeply humanistic nature led him to journalism, and in pursuit of independence, he founded several newspapers. He also wrote plays and narratives.
Byrne was no minor poet. In the book *An Unnameable Feast: The Best Cuban Poetry up to 1960*, according to José Lezama Lima, the author of *Paradiso*, he considered the poems "The Furniture" and "Harem of Stars," accompanied by an assessment highlighting: "Byrne's poetic production must be divided into two currents: his patriotic poetry and his other poetry as an excellent modernist poet."
Lezama affirms that in the first, Byrne "becomes the poet of the revolution, the singer of separatism," while in the second, a modernist author shines "full of successes, nuances, verbal richness, and a certain intimacy, a secret voice that is revealed delicately."
The patriotic poet suffered exile and continued to collaborate with revolutionary ideals from the United States. In Tampa, he created the Revolutionary Club, of which he became secretary, and contributed to publications such as Patria, El Porvenir, and El Expedicionario.
Byrne returned to Cuba on January 3, 1899. Much has been said about the event that inspired him to write *Mi bandera* (My Flag), the poem for which he is best known. “Upon returning from a distant shore, / with a soul mournful and somber,” he saw that, alongside his own, the American flag was waving. The sad “spectacle” took place at Havana’s Morro Castle, and that same day he wrote *Mi bandera*, letting out his grief.
Each verse of the poem stands as a definitive statement. For more than 120 years, it has lived in the soul of the Cuban people, and none of the many upheavals marking our history have weakened its message. It is no coincidence that Camilo Cienfuegos, in a fiery speech delivered before a large crowd gathered in front of the Presidential Palace, cited the final stanza, the often contemplated and deeply felt verse that speaks of what even our fallen would do to defend it.
“The poem,” said Virgilio López Lemus, “became a document in verse, a manly protest capable of representing the feelings of an entire nation regarding what it expresses.”
He also points out that “*Mi bandera* remains in the nation’s conscience as a popular work because it expresses an essential heartbeat of a majority of the Cuban people, who at the same time live full of love for the homeland, through its essential symbol, the lone star flag.”
Having passed away on July 5, 1936, Bonifacio Byrne left us a collective cry that grows stronger whenever an imperial threat tries to desecrate it. These days, his verses resonate, bold and complete, without a single word missing or superfluous.
My Flag / Bonifacio Byrne
Returning from a distant shore,
with a soul in mourning and shadowed,
I earnestly searched for my flag
—and saw another besides mine!
Where is my Cuban flag,
the most beautiful flag that exists?
This morning, I saw it from the ship,
and I have not seen anything sadder…!
With the faith of austere souls,
today I firmly declare
that two flags should not fly
where one suffices: mine alone!
In the fields that are now an ossuary,
she saw the brave fighting together,
and she has been the honorable shroud
for the poor fallen warriors.
Proudly she shone in battle,
without childish or romantic display;
to the Cuban who does not believe in her,
he should be whipped for cowardice!
In the depths of dark prisons,
she did not hear even the faintest complaint,
and her traces in other regions
are signs of light upon the snow…
Do you not see her? My flag is that one
which has never been mercenary,
and on which shines a star,
brighter the more solitary it is.
From exile, I brought her in my soul
among so many scattered memories,
and I have known how to pay her homage
by making her wave in my verses.
Though languid and sadly fluttering,
my ambition is that the Sun, with its light,
illuminates her alone, only her!
in the plain, in the sea, and on the summit.
If someday my flag is torn
into tiny pieces…
our dead, raising their arms,
will still know how to defend her!…
