Coffee by Lindsey Weston

Yesterday I was sitting in Starbucks.
Ugh.
That's where my friends wanted to study.
And as I sat there sipping my coffee, I looked up at the black and white photography mural on the wall.
It looked to stereotypical "Latin America"
Coffee finca... looked just like the one near my amigo Rigo's house.
Basket of coffee beans.
And that man, you could only see the back of his head and the sack of beans he carried on his back. And I longed to see his face, hear his story, collectively heal his pain.
And then I thought about that time our vigilante William took us to the top of the mountains
and we looked down at all of Tepecoyo, chewing on ripe coffee beans.
And amongst the maíz, beans, and coffee...huge machines.
What are we doing to our Mother Earth?
Another sip of coffee, because somehow that will stop the tears from forming in my eyes?
And then that silly "Lime Tree" song that we always listened to came on shuffle.
And I remembered Katie's poem about that little house on the finca where the dueño lives
And how much money he makes, while little boys and old men slave away...
just so they can (hope) to survive another day.
And a year ago today, I was living in the midst of a Natural Disaster
And the amount of tears I cried was about the same as the amount of rain that fell for 10 days straight.
And I thought I'd never see my Mama Angelica again, and now I just want it to be May
So I can go back and hold her hand forever
It hit me out of nowhere, I had to go outside and ball my eyes out.
And that homeless man asked me for change
How much in this world I want to change!
And Padre Dean passed away a year ago today (!Presente!)
And even though I never met him, I know my heart's much bigger because of what he said and did.
And it was all just too much.
All because I have this stupid addiction to coffee
El Salvador, siempre en mi corazón