In the summer of 1984, I studied Spanish in Morelia, Michoacan, Mexico. I had the chance to travel by bus to Los Reyes in the western part of the state, and I passed through an area still populated by an ancient indigenous group, the Purépecha. I was struck by the uniformity of dress of the village women I saw from the window of the bus.
I. Reflection
I marveled first at the village women —
All dressed in dark blue shawls
And bright aprons over dark skirts,
As if in uniform.
Then at myself —
In T-shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes.
II. Time Traveler
Beside the smooth, black highway,
On the rock and red mud path,
Old woman with a bucket, walk.
Wrapped in your dark shawl,
Sandals on your feet,
Carrying your heavy load, walk.
Old woman with a bucket, walk;
Climb the hill with your ancient stride;
Leave this asphalt road behind.
The dark shawls were available in the local market, and I bought one to take home as a gift for my mom.
