Rolando Mena

They say we look alike,

at least that's what they told me

the last time I visited.

I didn't see the resemblance.

You had a much better mustache

than I could ever hope to sport.

It was some time later that

I began to see the truth

of their words.

I saw it in the way your

gray hair slicked back

at the end of your forehead.

I saw it in our eyes,

In the stubbornness we harbor

justly or unjustly.

Beyond that

I began to hear it in your words.

The way joy and hard fought

understanding knew their place

alongside each other.

We're not so different.

I've heard that things have

gotten worse.

I can only hope

we find ourselves

together once more

in our  home

there in the town

of our ancestors,

an ancient blood

that runs deep through

the jungle.