I stepped off the plane
and was greeted, enveloped,
by sunbeam air and
sweet-smelling humidity
that kissed my skin.
The taxi floated down the highway,
gliding past bursts of color
that erupted in the fields and forests.
Twisted, beautiful trees reached
to the forever sky.
Makeshift homes leaned against the trees
amid the fruits and fields,
pigs and other idling livestock.
The sun shone on the smiling,
hopeful, poverty-stricken faces.
The city was nestled next to
the shining Pacific. The crumbly
buildings with chipped paint
stood strong in the middle of
Sorianas, Wal-Mart, shopping malls
Buses rumbled down the streets,
filled with brown-faced passengers.
A man walked down the aisle,
singing a lilting song and asking
for a few coins in exchange for his voice.
The open-air market basked in the shade
and was filled with laughter, bartering,
and the smells of jicama, mango,
passion fruit, dragon fruit,
and a hundred other foods.
The beaches were filled with people
and shaded chairs with umbrellas.
Roaring water crashed on the shore.
People laden with jewelry, toys, clothing,
walked up and down the sand.
The condo was on the beach,
where fisherman sat every morning
picking through their nets, and grinning families
took pictures with confused tourists. The sunset
shone on people sitting upon the sea wall.
The other family in the condo
greeted us with spicy jicama
and curious laughter. The day
was filled with talking, beach sports,
and trips to the markets.
Whales danced on the horizon,
where streaks of color illuminated
the conversation of friends
sitting on the wall in front of the condo,
sweet and strong drinks in hand.
The first night, I sat on the sand
watching those whales and red clouds.
I cried joyful tears for the culture,
for the language, for the endless kindness,
for the intelligence of the wide-eyed children.
I cried for the realization, for the epiphany,
of home. My soul opened and cried out.
It unfolded its iridescent arms
and embraced the land that I now long for
with every tendril of my wind-worn heart.
