Telling my story: A poetic attempt

An urge:

A longing to do good.

A question: What is good?

An admission:

I am not God.

A freedom, a lightness of being graced

with the understanding

that I am nothing

alone

Alone, I am nothing.

How best to serve God?

To serve God´s people.

To be a creature among creatures.

In hindsight: what choice did I have?

It was always my path.

But back then,

the magnitude, the grandness, the fear,

the decision.

Waiting.

            written: a To Do list for self-improvement

            denied: that I`m saving the world

            packed: subconscious expectations

                          emotional baggage

                          antibiotics

            left behind: comfort, security, confidence

Life was beautifully simple

which left time

                         (too much time)

for complicated emotions

time for reflection

        for unloading

        for recharging

        for knowing myself better than I ever had

before,

I was too busy

          too hurried

          too demanding

before,

I was goal-oriented

          big picture-focused

          Success-driven

(I am still those things)

but there is a gentleness, too,

            to myself

            and to others

It was all real, it was my life,

not an experience

nor an experiment.

It was real.

As real as Lucero´s fear of her father,

Thania´s bus accident.

As painful as Jefferson´s father´s severed leg,

Diego´s cracked-open head.

As lonely as Dustin and María waiting for their fathers on Father´s Day,

            the bullied class clown, victim of every joke.

As abandoned as Heydi

            Luis

            Yadit

            Alvaro. so young and playful.

                        A father he never knew

                        A mother driven to find work in Chile

                                               in Bolivia

                                               in Lima

                                               in the United States (while hearts and mouths wait 
                                                                                back home for money and assurance 
                                                                                that may never come)

it was real.

it was not easy but it was joyful

it was not painless but it was loving.

They were

          are loving.

                 generous.

                 welcoming.

An ice cold Inca Kola

A warm cup of tea

Always inviting, sharing, offering.

A state of mind: give what you are able

                           give even when you can´t

                           God will provide.

So many people loved me, from the start:

Abuela Julia    pouring love into mouth-watering dishes and

                        tearing up while praising God

Yessia             who believes in the possibility of change, who believes in people

                        and works for justice

Natalia            curious, you have grown

                        into an adult

                        into my friend

Lucia               “Mi casa es tu casa.” is not a cliché,

                        but an endless invitation

Quique                        a pillar of faith, steadfast in love

And the list goes on

love, outpouring

protection

guidance

and I, undeserving, marveled at it all.

And Peru was colorful, spirited, ancient,

Proud.

Celebrating the dynamic history

Still living in the people.

Tradition alive, amidst us, amidst us

Because I was

                am Peruvian.