6/15/2012: Cofradía, Honduras
Here Honduras IS.
The pulse of Honduras
The sweat drips
of basura, lobo, mierda.
Here is the heartbeat of Honduras
A slice of life
Tractors, mototaxis, buses and cars
People, bicycles, chickens and cows
Music, singing, rhythmic sweating
This is the heart of my country.
For a part of it belongs to me,
And I to it.
A piece of me remains, every time I fly up above the banana trees,
waving goodbye to the mountains,
A part of me lies behind the barbed wire fence
Those cemented shard of glass
That protected our small store
of Honduran possessions.
It is somewhere still, that piece of me,
Shared with 11 (12) others, until our
sweat mixed one with the other,
dripped down, down, our shirts, our legs,
Into concrete, with the rain, into the ground.
I leave behind a legacy: A middle school class
And an avocado tree.