Photo Editorial by LIbertad Betancourt with her poems and a poem by Abel Badillo, writer

MexicoUnited States





It’s difficult to talk about Libertad Betancourt. Why? She is an amazing woman, Mexican but based in Houston, Texas, USA, full of talents and energy, you can’t describe her in a one word. She is not only a great photographer but also a writer, poet, radio speaker, business consultant, manager of Communication and Training, and actress. In the last months she has been working as presenter of Fairs and Book Festivals over the world. All her video you can check at Facebook page @feriasvirtualeslibertadbetancourt. She is also JL Interviews correspondent of Both Americas. In this editorial, Libertad, decided to show us her photographs realized during currently ongoing pandemic titled “Pandemic Moments. Love will save us”. Love is a constant message that she wants to hand over to the whole world. Believe her, love and art will save us for sure! Follow her: FB @libertad.betancourt.3 and IG @libertadbetancourtphotography



Aún sigo saboreando la dulce savia prehispánica de tus labios de aguamiel en la tibieza del tiempo,

y sintiendo tus manos calientes como verdes pencas acariciando y envolviendo aterciopeladamente todo mi cuerpo.

El tlachiquero introduce su acocote pero Mayahuel se lo impide, la diosa mexica del maguey,

divinidad del mundo vegetal, diosa de la fertilidad, aliada de los amantes secretos nos protege.

Veo un ojo brillar en el centro de nuestra intimidad que se asemeja a un ave o flor naciente,

y leo en tu mirada el gran deseo de fermentarte en mi en un ritual sagrado que perdure eternamente.


I am still savoring the sweet pre-Hispanic sap of your mead lips in the warmth of time,

and feeling your hot hands like green stalks caressing and velvety enveloping my entire body.

The tlachiquero introduces his acocote but Mayahuel prevents it, the Mexican goddess of the maguey,

divinity of the plant world, goddess of fertility, ally of secret lovers, protects us.

I see an eye shine in the center of our intimacy that resembles a bird or a nascent flower,

and I read in your eyes the great desire to ferment you in me in a sacred ritual that lasts forever.

Libertad Betancourt




I own a wooded house at the top of the loquat
At dusk, the smoke of the sacrifice raises
it sends war missives to a shut heaven.

I keep on waiting
I camouflage
I present a different face.

But the enemy recognizes me
He bullies me after school
He harasses me
He menaces me
He mocks me, he pours over me.

I get out, I observe, I turn both sides
even though this is a one way road
and he passes buzzing under my nose
with his pestilent claxon.

I climb, I jump to another limb
I greenly wobble,
I get filled with freshness.
He persecutes me with guerrilla warfare
He sabotages my burrow,
He holds me by the tail,
believing he has me trapped:
—but, you can keep it—, it is my defense, it is my lure,
I go on living,
while you rot out there, lurking.

Abel S. Badillo
August 2020 – Copyrighted Material




Dulce sabor embriagante son tus besos y alucinante tu recuerdo, eres mi raíz prohibida, mi ayahuasca,

mi viaje a una realidad aparte, mi códice secreto, danza de rito purificador para mi alma y todo mi cuerpo.

Sacerdotes y chamanes, tiene corazón este camino? Muéstrenme mis yoes que habitan internamente en la profundidad del silencio.

Evoco a la liberación de mi espíritu, templo de adoración, vida, muerte y redención.

Eres mi amor sacro, susurro divino, mi Xochipilli, principe de las flores, de la danza y la belleza, deidad del arte y del amor,

eres tú mi señor mi culto y adoración. Tiende un lecho de flores elevadoras de conciencia para los dioses de juego caleidoscopio de visiones coloridas,

y en ese extasis de linaje antiguo tómame por tuya.


Sweet intoxicating flavor are your kisses and your memory is amazing, you are my forbidden root, my ayahuasca,

my journey to a separate reality, my secret codex, a purifying rite dance for my soul and my whole body.

Priests and shamans, does this path have a heart? Show me my selves that dwell internally in the depth of silence.

I evoke the liberation of my spirit, temple of adoration, life, death and redemption.

You are my sacred love, divine whisper, my Xochipilli, prince of flowers, dance and beauty, deity of art and love,

you are my lord, my worship and adoration. Lay out a bed of consciousness-raising flowers for the kaleidoscope game gods of colorful visions,

and in that ancient lineage ecstasy take me for yours.


Libertad Betancourt



Written by Joanna Longawa

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