La Isla Bonita.

She has hips like Venus,
that ebb and flow,
with the rhythm of the sea;
her waves wash over me.

I seek tranquility in her ocean.
Swimming in her to 
define my freedom.
A body of water like no ofher.
She smells of saline 
and hard labour.

Every breath's an effort, 
just like the very air I breathe.
Sweet as honey, 
she is thick as milk.

Despite being blamed 
for Eve's original sin,
she still weaves through
the traffic with expert skill. 

Blessed with the ability
to turn water into wine,
and chromosomes into people,
she embraces every obstacle
with passion and wonder.

As soft as velvet,
and as smooth as jade,
she is the reason why
brutish men are 
transformed into knaves. 

Le donne, mujeres, aurat—
in any language she is beautiful.
And for her very existence,
I am eternally grateful.