We Go to Sinaloa

We go to Sinaloa,
Down in Mexico,
Home to the hombre,
Home to the amigo.

We rest on its golden beaches—
Mazatlán is known for them.
We ride upon our surfboards;
On the waves, we skim.

We gasp at the Baluarte Bridge,
One of the highest on Earth,
And at the rock carvings—
They, of such worth.

We join in the festivals,
Dance with the people.
On Sunday, it's church,
And the beauty is the steeple.

We learn of the farmers
And how advanced they are.
Some of the world's best
Are in Sinaloa, by far.

But against everything great,
There is much that is not.
Drug cartels are entrenched,
And bloody battles are fought.

The people of Sinaloa
Also face the tariffs of Trump,
And that could put the farmers
Deep in a slump.

All the way down
To Sinaloa, we go.
We learn of their challenges
Along with things worthy of show.

Bless the Sinaloans
Bless the people of that land
Bless and protect them
Under God's hand