I have not been to Mexico,
But I hear the nights are beautiful.
I know you’ve seen the Puerto Rican bays,
When the water’s waves are weaved with stars.
But does it match the soft spoken nights in Mexico?
My friend you are,
But little do I truly know of you.
Like a Mexican night I’ve only heard,
But never seen.
I know that you shine brightly,
Like stars in Puerto Rican waves.
You just don’t show your value in glittering waters,
More in a dulling gold.
But I believe,
That what I do not know of you is simply a glory worthy story.
That you are deeper than a South-American key,
More to tell than just simple things.
I know you as a man,
As the loyal friend.
But what I do not know strains for my attention.
For you have a great story,
One of which I must pursue.
I know you are indifferent to your inner light,
I told you I must draw out your inner truth,
In order to tell of you.
You simply shrugged,
Said, “Write it as it should.”
But this is how it should be,
Speaking of your hidden glories.
And owing you apologies.
For the times I swore to you,
Upon an empty hand.
As well as the times I had prodded at your identity.
Maybe you do not accept,
Maybe you do.
It never really mattered,
We’ve bonded like kin.
After studies in sciences,
I await waiting kindness.
For never have you cared what others had told of me.
So still we wait at the trees by the street,
Awaiting a brother,
Awaiting your mother.
I still recall the weekend we vacationed away,
In the heart of freedom’s way.
To others it was a city,
To us it was amazing.
Late nights late,
To meet the pace of others in the group.
Questioning histories,
Like studies in theology.
It was early one morning,
Over coffee and hotel breakfast pastries,
That I told you, “I have truly nothing to write of.”
Then you suggested, “Why don’t you write of me?”
I was quite puzzled,
By what seemed a meager challenge.
But realizing by pen in candle light,
I had not a word to write.
For not enough I know of who you are truely,
To construct a truly meaningful piece.
So I did my best,
I chose to reflect what you mean to me.
As someone truly true,
With words you chose with choice,
Not merely of spite.
Every king needs his throne men,
And you are mine as much as I am yours.
Someday I’ll know all of your story,
Someday I’ll understand,
Someday we’ll trip to Mexico,
Spend a night alone,
With the silent soundings of a Mexican night.
Or maybe we decide,
That we ought to see,
The stars in the waves of a Puerto Rican bay.
Really it does not matter much,
As long as we travel as brothers.
Because we work as men,
But at heart we are boys.
Seeking something,
To please our childish hearts.
I know by now I’ve been thinking long,
Much too long of this wandering ponder,
Of us as great friends.
But I do know that it would do us good,
To spend a night sipping colored sodas,
On the dusk streets of Mexico.
For now though,
I’ll go back to wishing in whispers,
To know a night in Mexico.
On the roads of stained clay bricks,
Hopefully walking around, laughing, with you.
So I’ll see you after science studies,
Greet you with the same hello,
Because no great man walks alone.
I am great,
So I’ll walk with you.
Knowing us as friends,
Not a matter of where we are.
So goodnight to Mexico,
I have all the friendship I need at home.
This is a very lengthy poem, and if you made it all the way down here I'm proud of you. :)
