A Heartwarming Travel Poem about Guatemala

Flores, Guatemala

There is something special about a moment captured in a poem. When you read it, you don’t just get the facts of the moment, but the feelings of it too. I hope this travel poem I wrote about a moment I experienced while travelling in Guatemala gives you a glimpse of the feelings that were present. I think it really emphasizes some of the cultural differences between Guatemala and North America that I think North Americans could learn something from.

A travel photo of a group of local women on a Guatemala street

A Community Breathing Together

We wander the narrow cobblestone streets
of this tiny island town in Guatemala, trying
to find a place to feed our rumbling
stomachs. Our only guides: intuition

and a language we don’t speak. Pointed
in the same direction again and again,
weaving through hidden alleyways,
under red roofs, past open air shops

and multicoloured homes, headed
towards el puente.
We arrive at the city’s edge, at the tail
of the bridge, to a scene of children

racing between others, away
from whoever might tag them, swing sets in
motion, laughter abundant. The adults’ smiles
just as genuine. Light toned, love filled

conversations surround us, and I am
reminded of elementary school
events I would long for all year.
Excited children playing in the novelty,

festivity in the conversations of adults catching
up with friends not seen in awhile,
reminiscent of Christmas concerts
and talent shows hyped up for months.

A travel photo of a woman sitting under a colourful umbrella on a Guatemalan street corner

There’s a table overflowing with tamales, tostadas,
tacos, and rellenitos, another with juices
in yellow, red, orange, green, and blue,
and the women behind them look

like they must have worked all day
to prepare the food they’re doling out by the plateful.
I think of once-a-year bake sales back home,
everyone coming together with their best

dish. I recognize the celebration,
but there’s more presence here,
more attention, less waiting
for the at home wind-down in front of the tv.

Not a single checked watch, inpatient
foot tap, headnod, whispered plea
to a spouse, or cell phone in sight. There is
only warmth for one another, this is a community

breathing in sync. My travel companion
and I each get three large portions for only five quetzal,
a drink each – one green, one red. and together
we make the Christmas spirit this moment is giving

us. We marvel at how lucky we are
to experience this, to be here on just the right day.
I wonder what holiday they’re celebrating,
I say to him, overheard by a woman filling up plates.

Holiday? Oh, no.
We do this every night.


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