It’s been two months my family and I managed to untangle ourselves from the web that a structured society traps you in. It’s been adventure enough for a whole book – from the spiky-cactus desert lands penetrating us deeply, over Mexico’s loud and crazy yet soft and slow rhythm permeating every aspect of our lives, to zigzagging 4,000 kilometres along the Pacific coast escaping the Cartel’s grip at times with a healthy distance and others a little more closely…
We’ve also had beautiful encounters, including the famous Mayan poet, Jorge Miguel Cocom Pech, who randomly started reciting one of his most beautiful poems to me, on top of this ancient Aztec temple, in the middle of the chaos of Mexico City… I wish I could share with you all the magic of that moment. Maybe sharing his poem will at least transmit some of it:
Tu idioma es la casa de tu alma.
Ahí viven tus padres y tus abuelos.
En esa casa milenaria,
hogar de tus recuerdos, permanece tu palabra.
Por eso, no llores la muerte de tu cuerpo,
ni llores la muerte de tu alma;
tu cuerpo, permanece en el rostro de tus hijos, tu alma,
enternece en el fulgor de la estrellas.
I have only been able to find Mayan originals, but no English translations, thus here my own humble attempt for those foreign to the Spanish language.
Your language is the home of your soul.
It is there that your parents and grand-parents reside.
In this thousand-year old house,
Home of your memories, your words will remain.
Therefore, don’t cry over the death of your body,
Nor cry over the death of your souls.
Your body will continue in your children’s face,
Your soul soften in the brightness of the stars.