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written by: Macario



I’m a nomad,
Forever travelling about,
Words are my compass
Poetry is my path.

I never stay too long in one place,
Anywhere I go I think of the where I was born,
The precious soil where my ancestors are from
Is always in my heart.

It takes three hours to go from Yucatan to Baja
Almost as much as going from L.A. to Én Vuay
But in this flight you don’t just cross mountains, rivers and pine forests,
You go from jungle to desert,
Through volcanoes and pure smiles,
You fly over sacred lands,
Ruins as old as mankind,
And a kindness so moving it's wild.

This is the south of North America!
You can hear the coyotes sing at night
And the shamans howling their loved ones in front of the fire.

If you plan to cross it by car,
You must prepare yourself for one crazy ride
This is Mexico. A place God dreamt of and forgot al despertar
It’s the crossroads of nine realms
The Aztecs only knew this and never bothered to ask,
Just like the Chinese they thought:
We have everything here,
This is the Axis of the universe,
Why go any far?



Mexican poet living in the UK.

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