The Spirit of the Revolution

I sit here. 

Feeling the air on my face. 

Through my hair. Pushing me back.

It tells me of the stories of old. 

Of the Nicaraguans who once lived. 

De las cosas que pasaron. 

And I understood. 

My life. 

To revere what is natural. 

To revere what is good.

The spirit of La Revolución. 

De la gente.

I feel it.