7.8 magnitude

home is where my bed is made

where houses are built atop

mountains, and the windows

overlook the valley, over cliffs

home is where an angel dances

on the winding road of av. cinqo de junio,

watching the city in need of safety

home is where delicacy is sold

on streets by generations of women,

in hopes to feed the mouths of those

who sing praise on the holy day

home is where dogs roam the

streets like pigeons, searching

for their next meal, where

children beg the drivers

on the street for money,

por favor señorita, solo quiero

algo de tomar, they pleed, and

I give them 50¢ for their meal

home is where the land shakes

where buildings fall, and houses

perish in the hands of the world

home is where the world splits

between north and south, like

the halves of my heart, I am

always missing a piece of

myself when I am not there,

in ecuador;

where the wind blows

against my face, where the

air is fresh, where there is

no pain, no starvation,

home is ecuador

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