Backpacking Poet, JC Sullivan, recently attended the 2012 San Miguel Writers’ Conference. She sent us an email that stated, “The Conference was amazing — everyone was raving about how fabulous and inspiring it was. What a beautiful gift to the world.” Also included was the following poem.
Mexico: A Cautionary Tale
I was warned.
Repeatedly.
Warned.
So many times it lost its potency.
Warned.
By well-meaning friends
living in “safe” gated communities with armed guards
By acquaintances
who have never been here
By media reports
glamorizing and spreading alarm
Who have a different definition of danger. And of what
constitutes safety.
Stupid me!
I didn’t listen
to any of it.
Adventurous, perhaps with a death wish,
I didn’t look.
Worse.
I wasn’t careful.
And…
In “dangerous” Mexico,
I was robbed.
Stupid, stupid me!
Yes, Mexico…
stole from me…
A smile.
At first.
And then,
they got bolder
and took…
A laugh.
and bolder still, they ran off with…
my poor self-image.
Which turned into a larger felony: They took …
time
to fill me with compliments!
Telling me
repeatedly
how wonderful it is…
to be a woman
of experience.
Who smiles.
Who laughs.
Repeatedly.
Time after time. Again and again.
Until
finally, I believed them.
As I was smiling and laughing, and actually trusting myself,
They had the nerve to go and pick-pocket my lingering self-doubts,
my well-nurtured insecurities including
my belief that “real beauty” was limited to youth…
While I was still reeling in shock,
from having been robbed,
and pick-pocketed
Mexicans took
the opportunity to kill my previous ideas of what constituted
“hospitality”,
replacing it with a generosity
that
is frightening
to even try to emulate,
yet so, so fortunate to know.
See how really dangerous Mexico is?
And it got even worse!
I hadn’t recovered from such brutal behavior, when
they committed another truly horrible,
almost unspeakable
crime.
They gave me hope and optimism.
Repeatedly.
About who I was.
About who I could be.
About who we could be together.
Amongst wrapping me in love and force-feeding me laughter and
compliments and
smothering me in generosity
and unfathomably fabulous hospitality,
I was rendered helpless.
Utterly
helpless.
Stupid, stupid, stupid me.
I did not cry for help
or
run away.
Mexico took complete advantage of my situation and committed the
biggest atrocity of all. Once again, they stole …
my heart –
and my soul.
Now I’m so scared –
deeply, utterly terrified –
that I cannot return the favor.
Never happier,
I steal away…
to wish
this kind of “danger” on everyone.
JC Sullivan is a poet and writer and also a member of the Travelers
Century Club for people who have been to more than 100 countries.
http://sanmiguelwritersconference.wordpress.com/2012/03/09/mexico-a-cautionary-tale-by-jc-sullivan/