A feminine light of the Revolution turned into kindness, nobility transformed into humanism and sacrifice; a star turned into a dove, air, and flower.

So simple was the greatness of the woman who in times of war knew how to call herself Carmen, Caridad, Aly, but in the end she was always Celia, the one with the excessive tenderness, proverbial modesty, and at hand.

Media Luna witnesses her arrival in the world, of her wit, of countless childish pranks such as collecting ants to place them as a punishment in the pocket of a foolish man.

Those who knew say that when she was a little girl she kept coins all year round to buy toys for poor children and that her hands did not tremble when it came to cutting her beautiful hair so that she could contribute to the revolutionary cause with the 25 pesos offered by a hairdresser.

That is the memory of Celia Sanchez that persists today, beyond the photographs she always avoided and her scarce words in public acts.

That one that lives as an autochthonous flower and grows in every triumph and diaphanous smile, because her tiny, fragile, but at the same time energetic figure can be found in squares, museums, hospitals, schools, or any social work built in the country, or when evoking the verses of the poet

You were born to be

Perpetuated by history

Although mountain range

Rumbled by the bravery

Never was tenderness

Better personified.