MARIO MEDINA

COMCA’AC​​

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Our ancestors

Used to slid down rugged,

Serene, cerulean reveries

Until they bumped into this land

Boundless, vast, unique

Made of sustainable dreams

Forged by bow and arrow,

Powerful metaphor

With dilated pupils

In a desert

Never forsaken,

Caressed by an ocean

Overflowing

With marine riches

That the world of the silent

Will never fathom.
 

 

Wrapped in so much silence,

Onto the distant horizon,

The wind now passes across

Our memories,

Our smiles,

Our singing.

 

 
In this photograph here,

We are not alone.

Even if they are unseen,

They stand tall,

They are here,

They have never left.

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