Love Letter to Colombians

I love the way you call me mi amor,
and greet me like an old friend.

I love the way vendors so
politely sell me chocolates on the bus, and
then thank the drivers for a free lift.

And how street performers thank proprietors
for allowing them to play for their customers.
And how proprietors reply con gusto,
like you are in this together.

I love the way you move your body
when music starts to play.
On the dance floor, in the park, at the gas station.

The way you hold each other
with passion and trust and intimacy
for even just one dance.

I also love the street dogs,
as warm to me as you are to them.

And your patience. Oh, your patience!

I admire so much how you stay calm,
while I grunt with displeasure
as people shove their way into the crowded metro.
How you make room for one more, until at last,
we are all smushed in together like sardines, and
you laugh! Then I laugh.

Because we are in this together.

I love that when I say I’m American,
you don’t question further
where are you really from?
And if I say I’m Chinese,
you laud my heritage with your knowledge of history.

I am in complete awe of your strength
to rise out of a violent past.
Carrying painful memories, but
no longer fearful,
you take the future into your own hands.
With hope and camaraderie and
the will to stand your ground.

You show us what it really means to be in this together.

I love the way you call me mi amor,
and how my heart melts
as it carves out a place for you.