Mexico, The People: A Series
The wind in Mexico carries the souls of the people.
It carries the love, the life, the earth.
It carries the heavy eyes and the weary shoulders.
It carries the laughter of children and the flirting of romance.
It carries the smells of dirt and rain and trash and sewer.
It carries hard work for a lifetime and family forever.
The wind in Mexico is a different kind of wind.
It carries suffering and joy and all of the contradictions that make it so.
The wind in Mexico knows.
The earth in Mexico is dry and hardened from day after day in the sun.
It is brown and cracked like the faces above.
It is tired and worn.
Discarded and unappreciated.
The earth in Mexico gives life, vibrant, delicious, romantic.
Life full of joy and color.
The earth in Mexico turns nothing into everything.
The rain in Mexico comes each evening and wipes away the mundane.
It cleans the streets of despair.
The rain in Mexico falls hard and steady.
It comes in the evening.
It rolls in with determination and ferocity.
The air clears, the wind blows, the bustling streets empty.
Ready, waiting, hoping, wishing.
It comes to cleanse, to wash away the hardship of each day.
It comes to let the people know that everything is okay.
Even if its not.
Which it isn’t.
It soaks the earth, it feeds the soil.
It drenches the stone and the adobe.
It creates rivers in the cracks of the cobblestone.
Washing away everything humanity has left behind.
Even when the clouds roll in, the sun still shines in Mexico.
It shines in bright long rays that light up the clay colored earth like fire.
It creates streaks across the land invigorating each place it touches.
Making the jungles shine like oases and the cactus sparkle majestically.
The colorful adobe illuminated
The earth enveloped in warmth
The dog bathing in the heat
The children running home from school
The women sipping fruit water in the shade
The men's cracked faces wrinkling with laughter
The sun shows, for only those who are looking, the true beauty of Mexico.