As my feet stand here in the nation of corn fields,
My heart rests in the coffee bean fields that lye upon volcanos.
Waking up to my alarm clock is nothing like hearing Spanish songs
And smelling potatoes for breakfast.
Smiling kids with toothless smiles
This is why Guatemala captured my heart.
Any government agency would say I’m from good ol’ Indiana
But my heart says,
I dwell in the sight of streets full of markets
Hand woven clothes
The sound of rain on tin roofs;
Thirty people singing in a room made of metal.
Nothing feels more beautiful.
My heart speaks in a different language,
My family isn’t all the same color,
And sometimes home is wherever my suitcase is.