The road to Coroico, with coca

leaves in our cheeks we

dreamt through the winding 

Andean trail, whiplash vistas

drenched in two histories.

Gravelled inclines higher and

denser into the clandestine jungle.

Canine terra guards and suspect

gazes marked our entry.

We flew the valley

the past strapped on our backs.

From those heights we 

understood, that villages and forests, 

and farmers and brothers, were one.

The sun’s ancient fire

giving rise to the subversive.