Brutal...

It is beautiful. 
It is brutal.
Beautiful brutality?

Skies so blue and cloudless they almost hurt to look at. 
Skies so devoid of anything you will burn in the sun
And then freeze in the night. 

Adorable desert animals.
Carrying the plague. 
Look but don't touch, or breathe too deeply.

But you have to breathe deeply.
So high above the sea the air struggles to sustain you
Strengthening your lungs, weakening your heart

We are proud of the fighters
Championship boxers have their own streets
Holm broke that girl's jaw and we cheered

We drive fast on flat roads
And die young on sharp turns
Trying to get away from something we can't name

It's beautiful there.
It's brutal there.
Beautiful brutality we run from and to

The food is wonderful.
Nourishing, filling, delicious.
So hot it will burn your eyes, your nose, your mouth

Tears streaming down you face
Nose running freely. Lips tingling as you cough
It's the best, but not for the weak and it makes us love it more

We are proud of our brutality
We are proud of our beauty
We are beautiful and brutal

How many languages spoken in one day?
You understand and duck to avoid the chancla 
Or to lean in for the besos from su abuela.

Tortillas, frybread, posole, enchiladas
Mariachi, Pow Wows, balloons in the sky
We are here for the fiestas

And the Coronas
And the tequila
And the sirens and accidents and headshakes, what did you expect?

Born and raised in brutality and beauty
I am proud of where I came from
And glad I made it out