Return from a 'Medical Misson' in Ensenada, Mexico - a Poem

I returned a week ago from a medical mission in Mexico. This is a poem I wrote to a Doctor and his wife (Thanks, Joel and Marta!) that hosted us and became our friends. My attempt to thank them and to begin to sum up the many feelings and experiences we were so honored to receive. To those of you familiar with Pablo Neruda . . . I hope you sense his influence somewhere in these humble lines!

To Joel & Marta,

I cannot speak your language,
but I feel and recognize the familiar face and language of love,
I have found here in Mexico.

I may not understand your language,
but I have experienced the compassion and forgiveness of Mexico.

I cannot understand what it is to be Hispano,
but you and Mexico continue to teach me the meaning and sacredness of memory.

I am so insignificant.
Like the grain of lonely sand on a beach of glittering stars,
that knows so little, speaks so little, understands so little.

Ah . . . but this grain of sand somehow knows you and this beautiful language you speak.

What we learn here lingers . . . .
past all life and death.
Past distant spinning galaxies,
amid the infinite wash of wave and tide.

My humble gratitude for this sacred gift,
of compassion and culture, of giving and receiving,
of sharing and grace, of redemption.

I may not speak your language,
but now understand at last.
Because of this . . . I am in your debt.

So the endless cycle continues,
we are bound to each other.
Sun to moon,
bee to flower,
ocean to earth,
Dirt to stone,
Friend to Friend.


David McCullough
June 20 2003
Ensenada, B.C., Mexico




Copyright June 2003