Now in hurricane season.....
With hurricanes it's not the wind or the noise or the water. - Victor Hernández Cruz
We, abuela and I, we know.
We know when we witness the back porch
and see the empty hammock dancing.
We know when the tempo of cyclonic beats
join the crescendo of percussion - pla-pla-pla.
We know when the whispers come haunting
and the moisture on our skin hints of Yemaya,
we know.
We know when the scurry of tiny feet run,
snapping branches under the breeding of thunder and lighting.
We know when the high pitch of the barrels meet the pounding of raindrops.
We know but do you know us?
Do you know the grandchildren play here now?
All five of them
a blessing of skinned knees,
river drenched hair,
mango stained fingers and laughter.
Shhh, can you hear them?
Their music is a rolling pin
ironing out the growing yeast that is a tired old man.
They play among the still life of papayas and piñas,
imagining them to be their grandfather's congas.
They sing folklore's and pluck melodic strings
in tune to the waves crashing on San Felipe's fort walls.
Shhh, do you hear them?
Do you hear them as the hammock dances?
Abuela's chair now faces east
where my machete, long retired,
lays stored and exchanged for leisure naps under the sun.
Her arthritic hands, beautiful black hands,
though they too have long been retired
continue to mold the dough of a family.
Still out of her rocking chair she hacks the coconuts
and like the beauty of our surroundings,
she nourishes us with fruits of the land -
milk, flesh, coro and son.
Shhh, do you hear her?
Do you hear her as the hammock dances?
Father of wind, warmth and water,
the great Huracán
Caribbean native
resident of the tropics
God of the ancestors
we know you, we respect you, we give way to you.
We know it is your time but it is also ours.
You make the hammock dance
but the grandchildren play here now,
and abuela's fingers
and my machete
and we beg you,
be merciful.
Abuela - Grandmother's
Yemaya - Goddess of the Ocean
Piñas - Pineapples
Son - a style of music that originated in Cuba (guitar, song & percussion)
Coro - Choir, to sing in choir.
RLL Copyright © 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Your Silence Will Not Protect You
At some point one has to declare a cease-fire, be it by choice or not. Some will declare it after deep reflection, others through surrender and others, having waited too long, via death. Today I declare a cease-fire on my active state of being partially purposeful and partially responsible. No one is such a thing. No one can be partially anything when dealing in a revolution, especially this revolution, our bottomless well of a revolution. This revolution being the very same one our ancestors participated in and fought for but which now bears new faces, newer dimensions and many more missed opportunities. It is the revolution of naming an action, capturing the image and documenting the present.
In my absence, I became a random star floating in a vast galaxy. I become a mere pixel assisting in the whole. I am among the many who forgot their role, who ignored their own value and lost sight of what was important. I am one among the many who believed that existing could be enough; that my action of nothingness caused no harm until I realized that the revolution continued despite me, affecting my offspring in ways I hadn't fathomed possible; that the revolution was losing ground by my silence and inaction.
Neutrality is a farce. We all have an opinion. We all have a reaction. We use the term 'being neutral' as a defense. We are scared. We are hiding from the fear of not harboring the popular thought. We are hiding from publicly being wrong or perhaps, we're not hiding at all. Perhaps we're just plain lazy. Whatever the reason, we are failing. We are failing the cause. We have consciously put down our arms and allowed our enemies broader range into our spaces, into our minds and into our lives. We have allowed them easier access into mass persuasion. Essentially we have been, I have been handing over my power.
Is it not true that a picture does not stop being a picture if one pixel becomes obsolete? And is it not true that the galaxy will carry forth despite the absence of another stars beam? Therefore, it is true that the issues will continue to manifest from the palms of trouble makers (intentional or not) despite the absence of a fallen comrade. THIS comrade has decided to get up. THIS comrade rises, grabs her weaponry and while she may be incapable of stopping the bullets from being fired, she can certainly join the front line alongside her fellow bloggers. Sir William Shakespeare once wrote "many wearing rapiers are afraid of goosequills." Well I say, be very afraid! I have risen and have decided to right my wrong by rejoining the revolution. I have a voice, therefore I am obligated to respond, to teach and to document.
I am making a "come-back" because it is needed, because there is a circus of situations feverishly showing their heads like some surreal Jack-In-The-Box that just won't quit. I spent my days observing from the sidelines as sideshow after sideshow developed. I witnessed the arrival of SB1070 and HB87 and did very little about it. I witnessed earthquake after earthquake torment our brothers and sisters in Haiti, Chile and Japan and all I did was change a Facebook status. I did the same with the news concerning the growing epidemic of homelessness and cholera outbreak in Haiti. I followed quietly as police rattled the lives of innocent civilians here in the states and caused havoc on teachers and students in Puerto Rico. I followed the news of questionable budget cuts and continued injustice against both women and children and of politicians gone drunk with power and on and on and on and nothing. I watched and read as children continued to fall through the cracks of the public school system and just simply felt sad. I watched families struggle with the idea of assimilation when they didn't need to go through it at all. Why have I stopped teaching? Why haven't I taught survival was possible bi-culturally? Why wasn't there talk of acculturation instead? I can no longer stay quiet. My silence does more harm than good. It protects no one. It helps no one. It betrays.
To witness and follow is not enough. Indeed it is a wise move to be informed, but with knowledge comes responsibility and I need to get my act together concerning the latter. This post is not only a confession and promise, it is also a call for all my fallen comrades! Pick up your quills!
In the words of Audre Lorde, "Your silence will not protect you." You WILL be held accountable, if not by me then by your own child, your neighbor, an elder, your sister, your mother, your best friends father, your neighborhood baker, your community members, the whole. Let us be the Whitney Young's, the Alberto Korda's, the Pedro Albizu Campos and the Juan Antonio Corretjer's of our generation. Perhaps those are tall glasses to fill but fill it we must, be it through photographs, media, essays, protests and/or literature.
In my absence, I became a random star floating in a vast galaxy. I become a mere pixel assisting in the whole. I am among the many who forgot their role, who ignored their own value and lost sight of what was important. I am one among the many who believed that existing could be enough; that my action of nothingness caused no harm until I realized that the revolution continued despite me, affecting my offspring in ways I hadn't fathomed possible; that the revolution was losing ground by my silence and inaction.
Neutrality is a farce. We all have an opinion. We all have a reaction. We use the term 'being neutral' as a defense. We are scared. We are hiding from the fear of not harboring the popular thought. We are hiding from publicly being wrong or perhaps, we're not hiding at all. Perhaps we're just plain lazy. Whatever the reason, we are failing. We are failing the cause. We have consciously put down our arms and allowed our enemies broader range into our spaces, into our minds and into our lives. We have allowed them easier access into mass persuasion. Essentially we have been, I have been handing over my power.
Is it not true that a picture does not stop being a picture if one pixel becomes obsolete? And is it not true that the galaxy will carry forth despite the absence of another stars beam? Therefore, it is true that the issues will continue to manifest from the palms of trouble makers (intentional or not) despite the absence of a fallen comrade. THIS comrade has decided to get up. THIS comrade rises, grabs her weaponry and while she may be incapable of stopping the bullets from being fired, she can certainly join the front line alongside her fellow bloggers. Sir William Shakespeare once wrote "many wearing rapiers are afraid of goosequills." Well I say, be very afraid! I have risen and have decided to right my wrong by rejoining the revolution. I have a voice, therefore I am obligated to respond, to teach and to document.
I am making a "come-back" because it is needed, because there is a circus of situations feverishly showing their heads like some surreal Jack-In-The-Box that just won't quit. I spent my days observing from the sidelines as sideshow after sideshow developed. I witnessed the arrival of SB1070 and HB87 and did very little about it. I witnessed earthquake after earthquake torment our brothers and sisters in Haiti, Chile and Japan and all I did was change a Facebook status. I did the same with the news concerning the growing epidemic of homelessness and cholera outbreak in Haiti. I followed quietly as police rattled the lives of innocent civilians here in the states and caused havoc on teachers and students in Puerto Rico. I followed the news of questionable budget cuts and continued injustice against both women and children and of politicians gone drunk with power and on and on and on and nothing. I watched and read as children continued to fall through the cracks of the public school system and just simply felt sad. I watched families struggle with the idea of assimilation when they didn't need to go through it at all. Why have I stopped teaching? Why haven't I taught survival was possible bi-culturally? Why wasn't there talk of acculturation instead? I can no longer stay quiet. My silence does more harm than good. It protects no one. It helps no one. It betrays.
To witness and follow is not enough. Indeed it is a wise move to be informed, but with knowledge comes responsibility and I need to get my act together concerning the latter. This post is not only a confession and promise, it is also a call for all my fallen comrades! Pick up your quills!
In the words of Audre Lorde, "Your silence will not protect you." You WILL be held accountable, if not by me then by your own child, your neighbor, an elder, your sister, your mother, your best friends father, your neighborhood baker, your community members, the whole. Let us be the Whitney Young's, the Alberto Korda's, the Pedro Albizu Campos and the Juan Antonio Corretjer's of our generation. Perhaps those are tall glasses to fill but fill it we must, be it through photographs, media, essays, protests and/or literature.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Mamá Planted Philosophy - Poem
Yes, yes ya'll....to the beat ya'll....to the rhythm and bass ya'll....of prose and verse ya'll....(Somewhere in the the world, Kool Moe Dee is frowning about what I've just done....Chuckle....). Well here we are, still in the midst of National Poetry Month. I imagine we're each observing and honoring the craft by reading, writing, educating and performing as am I. Well truth be told, the performing not so much. The writing however, yes that I do. Below you'll find a piece I've revised and am officially announcing as my poetic contribution. Enjoy!
Mamá planted philosophy
when she knelt in her garden.
Seasoned strands and beads of sweat
garnished soft Indio features.
Laugh lines surrounded warm eyes
and tinted lips played doorways to proverbs.
She bathed brown hands rich with earth
as she spoke of the lilies, the perennials, the rose bushes and tulips.
Each one blooms during the day, she would say.
Each one under the suns’ spotlight,
swaying and dancing as if in a Broadway play.
Mamá planted philosophy
while a budding face of fawn gazed at her.
Looking down at this resemblance of the Antilles,
she smiled a wrinkled tenderness
as empty flower pots were held.
Indigenous and dark,
thick in lips and thighs,
implanted and rooted,
the innocence waited for the seasoned skill
for both pot and mind.
Beautiful petals fall from your head, she would say.
Be proud to wear such a crown,
but do not be like my garden mi'ja;
do not boast for all to see your nectar,
for robbery and greed
adorn the most humble of bees.
Mamá planted philosophy
when she knelt in her garden,
often talking about the treasures of the night.
Be a night bloomer
whose petals and fragrance stay clear of the day,
but glow softly under the moonlight.
When night tide approaches
and no one is watching
and the suns’ rays wilt like leaves in the cold
and the moon is calling out for the symphony of the night,
only then should you celebrate the fire in your hair,
the rainbow of your skin,
the chékere in your movement.
Only then mi'ja,
only then.
RLL Copyright © 2010.
Mamá planted philosophy
when she knelt in her garden.
Seasoned strands and beads of sweat
garnished soft Indio features.
Laugh lines surrounded warm eyes
and tinted lips played doorways to proverbs.
She bathed brown hands rich with earth
as she spoke of the lilies, the perennials, the rose bushes and tulips.
Each one blooms during the day, she would say.
Each one under the suns’ spotlight,
swaying and dancing as if in a Broadway play.
Mamá planted philosophy
while a budding face of fawn gazed at her.
Looking down at this resemblance of the Antilles,
she smiled a wrinkled tenderness
as empty flower pots were held.
Indigenous and dark,
thick in lips and thighs,
implanted and rooted,
the innocence waited for the seasoned skill
for both pot and mind.
Beautiful petals fall from your head, she would say.
Be proud to wear such a crown,
but do not be like my garden mi'ja;
do not boast for all to see your nectar,
for robbery and greed
adorn the most humble of bees.
Mamá planted philosophy
when she knelt in her garden,
often talking about the treasures of the night.
Be a night bloomer
whose petals and fragrance stay clear of the day,
but glow softly under the moonlight.
When night tide approaches
and no one is watching
and the suns’ rays wilt like leaves in the cold
and the moon is calling out for the symphony of the night,
only then should you celebrate the fire in your hair,
the rainbow of your skin,
the chékere in your movement.
Only then mi'ja,
only then.
RLL Copyright © 2010.
Monday, February 1, 2010
The Requerimiento (Revised) - Poem
Shouting in alien tongues
abstract words
and perplexities of sorts,
they arrived on shore
like summertime ants
assaulting the calm of kitchen floors.
Oh recognize us –
citizens of ignorant acts,
as the saviors
and prophets
who shall bring peace upon your heads.
Oh recognize us –
and fear not words that befuddle
nor hands of jagged wreaths,
that graze upon the ample bosom
belonging to your wives and offspring.
In our postcards,
we shall brag of your beauty
as obvious as our heavenly given rights.
We shall sip of your coffee
sweeten our tongues
and flush you of your foreign words.
Fear not the fine print floating in the distance
citing clauses that slither
like poisonous rattlesnakes in the dark.
That was then.
We’ve come to strip you,
correction –
we’ve come to revitalize you
like the coming of Spring.
Giving birth to form
breathing life into order
planting seeds of institutions
so as to sprout buds of a different breed.
Oh watch the blossom!
Backs bent in sweat
tears pooled in grief
torrents of yelps, moans and screams
but fear not,
for that is what the suckle is to the infant,
what the oasis is to the traveler.
Oh hear us!
Hear our hearts beat wildly
with the promise of fulfillment.
That was then.
Another portrait circulates.
Familiar angles disguised in the abstract.
Cleverly framed landscapes
and mosaics of a new world politics address
citizens
voters
advocates
petitioners
and more.
We here specialize in the freedom of stroke,
in the power of quenching thirsts,
in the rivers of choice.
Fear not
that your feet wade in cement
or that your thirsty soul
reaches through the mirror of water.
It looks like confusion.
It looks like struggle.
It looks like deceit.
A mother cashes in pockets of oaths
that dissolves like pink mist
each time she attempts
spooning the promises to the nestled youth in her arms.
It looks like betrayal.
That was then
Or is that now?
R. Lucret Copyright © 2009
What was El Requierimiento? http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spanish_Requirement_of_1513
abstract words
and perplexities of sorts,
they arrived on shore
like summertime ants
assaulting the calm of kitchen floors.
Oh recognize us –
citizens of ignorant acts,
as the saviors
and prophets
who shall bring peace upon your heads.
Oh recognize us –
and fear not words that befuddle
nor hands of jagged wreaths,
that graze upon the ample bosom
belonging to your wives and offspring.
In our postcards,
we shall brag of your beauty
as obvious as our heavenly given rights.
We shall sip of your coffee
sweeten our tongues
and flush you of your foreign words.
Fear not the fine print floating in the distance
citing clauses that slither
like poisonous rattlesnakes in the dark.
That was then.
We’ve come to strip you,
correction –
we’ve come to revitalize you
like the coming of Spring.
Giving birth to form
breathing life into order
planting seeds of institutions
so as to sprout buds of a different breed.
Oh watch the blossom!
Backs bent in sweat
tears pooled in grief
torrents of yelps, moans and screams
but fear not,
for that is what the suckle is to the infant,
what the oasis is to the traveler.
Oh hear us!
Hear our hearts beat wildly
with the promise of fulfillment.
That was then.
Another portrait circulates.
Familiar angles disguised in the abstract.
Cleverly framed landscapes
and mosaics of a new world politics address
citizens
voters
advocates
petitioners
and more.
We here specialize in the freedom of stroke,
in the power of quenching thirsts,
in the rivers of choice.
Fear not
that your feet wade in cement
or that your thirsty soul
reaches through the mirror of water.
It looks like confusion.
It looks like struggle.
It looks like deceit.
A mother cashes in pockets of oaths
that dissolves like pink mist
each time she attempts
spooning the promises to the nestled youth in her arms.
It looks like betrayal.
That was then
Or is that now?
R. Lucret Copyright © 2009
What was El Requierimiento? http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spanish_Requirement_of_1513
Thursday, October 15, 2009
On Not Being Black Enough
This here is another case of not being "Black" enough for the African-Americans and not being "Spanish" enough for the Latino's. I discovered this at one of the colleges I attended some years back (a brief stint), where the majority of the student body was mostly Latinos and African-Americas with sprinkles of everything else. I being a dark-skinned Latina am no stranger to people assuming that I am African-American, that is until the Spanish language started spilling out of my mouth. Once that had happened, I was no longer a valid specimen and my Latino counterparts did not find me to their liking due to the fact that I did not speak English with a Spanish accent. It's true, I don't say jes; I say yes. I'm not saying that to knock anyone, simply that's just me. Can I be an individual? Can I be me?
This here is a rant. I don't know why I let down my guard. It appears that letting down my guard is only good for letting something or someone bite me on the rear. So here it is again. Years later after having mentioned the upcoming release of the movie "Black Dynamite", all hell broke loose and that all too familiar spasm of "I'm Black and your not" has resurfaced.
Fuming, I would first like to say that anyone can go to the movie theater and watch whichever movie they so desire regardless of race, color, creed, national origin, ancestry, sex, marital status, disability, religious or political affiliations, age or sexual orientation (in case you didn't know). Second, I would like to remind you that some of the smartest people on the planet never sat a day in their lives in a college classroom, yet college graduates walk around absolutely clueless on a daily basis. You may be one of them. Therefore, my lack of sitting in a classroom that discussed Blaxploitation films does not mean I am beyond understanding the "real" meanings laced in movies like "Black Dynamite". I can understand your wanting to claim certain things under your ethnic group, trust me I do. I myself am guilty of said action and am always happy to say "and she's Latina" or "she's one of us" type remarks, to show pride and ownership of things I feel proud of. So yes, I get where your coming from. However, that does not give you the right or the pass to act the fool. This Latina is quite aware of the ghetto, drug dealers, ethnic slurs, and yes, even pimps. Believe it or not, I too watched Foxy Brown and I too know about the "five on the black hand side". But those truly are trivial things. I would like to think this wasn't as big a deal as you had made it. I was simply talking about the release of a movie come this Friday.
And yet that is still not enough.
You tell me that I don't know what it's like to be Black in America. Oh but how I do! When most people see me, they see a Black face in America. They do not think that this dark-skinned woman is Afro-Latina (and take note: the 'Afro' in Afro-Latina, but I won't go into that). They do not see a Mexican in America. They do not see a Panamanian in America. They do not see a Colombian in America nor a Puerto Rican in America. The see my skin and there have been times, many in fact that I am treated unfairly because of it. I never attribute this to being treated Black. I attribute this to being treated lesser than. I attribute it to being treated like the minority. While I am not telling you that you should see it my way, I am saying that I do know what you are talking about. I am saying that I do get treated like I'm "Black", but what the hell does that have to do with the type of movie I decide to watch? What planet do you hail from that you would believe that the Japanese are the only ones going to see anime or that the Russians are the only ones that go to the ballet? Do you really believe that belonging to a particular ethnic group means you automatically have a complete and thorough understanding of your own culture? Really, do you?
Finally, I do want you to understand that I am not boxing in your ancestors struggles or your struggle or the struggle of the Black person in America into the one huge box with that of the Latinos. I am aware that there are differences, but just keep in mind that the struggle, each struggle of each "minority" (minority being quite debatable in this day and age) group should not be working against one another, but working at least towards the same goals. I dare take you back some years and remind you how this idea isn't new nor unheard of. As a matter of fact, I dare say it's still worth it's weight as far as being an excellent strategy. Remember the Black Panther Party (Oh yes, I know about that too), it at one time was the only organization that Latino's knew about. It was and became the model for the Young Lords Party. While separate, they fought the same battles. Hence, I dare you to do the same and put aside the petty thinking of whether or not a Latino or Italian person can see a movie such as Black Dynamite and join in on the bigger issue at hand.
Side note: I never intended on seeing 'Black Dynamite'.
This here is a rant. I don't know why I let down my guard. It appears that letting down my guard is only good for letting something or someone bite me on the rear. So here it is again. Years later after having mentioned the upcoming release of the movie "Black Dynamite", all hell broke loose and that all too familiar spasm of "I'm Black and your not" has resurfaced.
Fuming, I would first like to say that anyone can go to the movie theater and watch whichever movie they so desire regardless of race, color, creed, national origin, ancestry, sex, marital status, disability, religious or political affiliations, age or sexual orientation (in case you didn't know). Second, I would like to remind you that some of the smartest people on the planet never sat a day in their lives in a college classroom, yet college graduates walk around absolutely clueless on a daily basis. You may be one of them. Therefore, my lack of sitting in a classroom that discussed Blaxploitation films does not mean I am beyond understanding the "real" meanings laced in movies like "Black Dynamite". I can understand your wanting to claim certain things under your ethnic group, trust me I do. I myself am guilty of said action and am always happy to say "and she's Latina" or "she's one of us" type remarks, to show pride and ownership of things I feel proud of. So yes, I get where your coming from. However, that does not give you the right or the pass to act the fool. This Latina is quite aware of the ghetto, drug dealers, ethnic slurs, and yes, even pimps. Believe it or not, I too watched Foxy Brown and I too know about the "five on the black hand side". But those truly are trivial things. I would like to think this wasn't as big a deal as you had made it. I was simply talking about the release of a movie come this Friday.
And yet that is still not enough.
You tell me that I don't know what it's like to be Black in America. Oh but how I do! When most people see me, they see a Black face in America. They do not think that this dark-skinned woman is Afro-Latina (and take note: the 'Afro' in Afro-Latina, but I won't go into that). They do not see a Mexican in America. They do not see a Panamanian in America. They do not see a Colombian in America nor a Puerto Rican in America. The see my skin and there have been times, many in fact that I am treated unfairly because of it. I never attribute this to being treated Black. I attribute this to being treated lesser than. I attribute it to being treated like the minority. While I am not telling you that you should see it my way, I am saying that I do know what you are talking about. I am saying that I do get treated like I'm "Black", but what the hell does that have to do with the type of movie I decide to watch? What planet do you hail from that you would believe that the Japanese are the only ones going to see anime or that the Russians are the only ones that go to the ballet? Do you really believe that belonging to a particular ethnic group means you automatically have a complete and thorough understanding of your own culture? Really, do you?
Finally, I do want you to understand that I am not boxing in your ancestors struggles or your struggle or the struggle of the Black person in America into the one huge box with that of the Latinos. I am aware that there are differences, but just keep in mind that the struggle, each struggle of each "minority" (minority being quite debatable in this day and age) group should not be working against one another, but working at least towards the same goals. I dare take you back some years and remind you how this idea isn't new nor unheard of. As a matter of fact, I dare say it's still worth it's weight as far as being an excellent strategy. Remember the Black Panther Party (Oh yes, I know about that too), it at one time was the only organization that Latino's knew about. It was and became the model for the Young Lords Party. While separate, they fought the same battles. Hence, I dare you to do the same and put aside the petty thinking of whether or not a Latino or Italian person can see a movie such as Black Dynamite and join in on the bigger issue at hand.
Side note: I never intended on seeing 'Black Dynamite'.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
The Requerimiento - Poem
Shouting in alien tongues
abstract words
and perplexities of sorts,
they arrived on shore
like summertime ants
assaulting the calm of kitchen floors.
Oh recognize us –
citizens of ignorant acts,
as the saviors
and prophets
who shall bring peace upon your heads.
Oh recognize us –
and fear not words that befuddle
nor hands of jagged wreaths,
that graze upon the ample bosom
belonging to your wives and offspring.
In our postcards,
we shall brag of your beauty
as obvious as our heavenly given rights.
We shall sip of your coffee
sweeten our tongues
and flush your foreign words.
Fear not the fine print floating in the distance
citing clauses that slither
like poisonous rattlesnakes in the dark.
We’ve come to strip you,
correction –
we’ve come to revitalize you
like the coming of Spring.
Giving birth to form
breathing life into order
planting seeds of institutions
so as to sprout buds of a different breed.
Oh watch the blossom!
Backs bent in sweat
tears pooled in grief
torrents of yelps, moans and screams
but fear not,
for that is what the suckle is to the infant,
what the oasis is to the traveler.
Oh hear us!
Hear our hearts beat wildly
with the promise of fulfillment.
That was then.
Another portrait circulates.
Familiar angles disguised in the abstract.
Cleverly framed landscapes
and mosaics of a new world politics address
citizens
voters
advocates
petitioners
and more.
We here specialize in the freedom of stroke,
in the power of quenching thirsts,
in the rivers of choice.
Fear not
that your feet wade in cement
or that your parched soul
reaches through the mirror of water.
It looks like confusion.
It looks like struggle.
It looks like deceit.
A mother cashes in pockets of oaths
that dissolves like pink mist
as she attempts
spooning the promises to the nestled youth
cradled in her arms.
It looks like betrayal.
That was then
Or is that now?
RLL
While doing some research, I discovered a document that the Spanish used to assert their sovereignty over the natives of the lands that they conquered. The Requerimiento was written by Juan López de Palacios Rubios and I found this document quite disturbing for it's obvious reason, but also because in some ways some things still haven't changed. Granted, a most wonderful accomplishment happens everyday as we continue to promote, establish and follow through on our own personal ideas, projects and activities. However, we must keep in mind that it's a continuous struggle that ceases to have an end.
....Y seguimos!
abstract words
and perplexities of sorts,
they arrived on shore
like summertime ants
assaulting the calm of kitchen floors.
Oh recognize us –
citizens of ignorant acts,
as the saviors
and prophets
who shall bring peace upon your heads.
Oh recognize us –
and fear not words that befuddle
nor hands of jagged wreaths,
that graze upon the ample bosom
belonging to your wives and offspring.
In our postcards,
we shall brag of your beauty
as obvious as our heavenly given rights.
We shall sip of your coffee
sweeten our tongues
and flush your foreign words.
Fear not the fine print floating in the distance
citing clauses that slither
like poisonous rattlesnakes in the dark.
We’ve come to strip you,
correction –
we’ve come to revitalize you
like the coming of Spring.
Giving birth to form
breathing life into order
planting seeds of institutions
so as to sprout buds of a different breed.
Oh watch the blossom!
Backs bent in sweat
tears pooled in grief
torrents of yelps, moans and screams
but fear not,
for that is what the suckle is to the infant,
what the oasis is to the traveler.
Oh hear us!
Hear our hearts beat wildly
with the promise of fulfillment.
That was then.
Another portrait circulates.
Familiar angles disguised in the abstract.
Cleverly framed landscapes
and mosaics of a new world politics address
citizens
voters
advocates
petitioners
and more.
We here specialize in the freedom of stroke,
in the power of quenching thirsts,
in the rivers of choice.
Fear not
that your feet wade in cement
or that your parched soul
reaches through the mirror of water.
It looks like confusion.
It looks like struggle.
It looks like deceit.
A mother cashes in pockets of oaths
that dissolves like pink mist
as she attempts
spooning the promises to the nestled youth
cradled in her arms.
It looks like betrayal.
That was then
Or is that now?
RLL
While doing some research, I discovered a document that the Spanish used to assert their sovereignty over the natives of the lands that they conquered. The Requerimiento was written by Juan López de Palacios Rubios and I found this document quite disturbing for it's obvious reason, but also because in some ways some things still haven't changed. Granted, a most wonderful accomplishment happens everyday as we continue to promote, establish and follow through on our own personal ideas, projects and activities. However, we must keep in mind that it's a continuous struggle that ceases to have an end.
....Y seguimos!
Thursday, July 23, 2009
My Lord, I loved Frijoles and Celia - Poem
Every now and again one must stop to give thanks. Even with all the "ugly" laced in life, one has to admit that the charms far exceed the repulsions. I think we all agree that the "bad" is necessary in order for us to see just how great the "good" truly is. With that being said, allow me to bring your attention to one of the "good" things in life.
I recently came across a picture book that had me absolutely tickled! I was so taken with the book, that I called two girlfriends of mine and read them the book in its entirety. The book was titled "Celia Cruz: Queen of Salsa", by Veronica Chambers. Veronica Chambers did an excellent job in talking about Celia Cruz's upbringing in Cuba and in the United States. She spoke of the challenges Celia faced, her singing and her love for Pedro Knight. (I smile as I think of Pedro Knight and su cabecita de algodón).
The illustrator of this gem is Julie Maren. Julie did a magnificent job capturing Celia in all her colors! Celia Cruz was well known for her vibrant colors and breathtaking wigs. She was known for her flamboyant sense of style which was depicted beautifully in the artwork of this book.
There is a poet by the name Czeslaw Milosz who wrote a poem titled, "A Confession". The first line of the poem always makes me smile because, it's funny and odd to think that if one should be placed in front of a higher power or the Lord, that the first thing he'd say was how he loved strawberry jam as part of his confession. Below is an excerpt of that poem:
My Lord, I loved strawberry jam
And the dark sweetness of a woman’s body.
Also well-chilled vodka, herring in olive oil,
Scents, of cinnamon, of cloves.
So what kind of prophet am I?
Well if I were placed in front of the Lord to confess of the things I was most thankful for and loved, I'd certainly think of this book as part of my list. I'd begin like this:
For Celia
My Lord, I loved frijoles negros,
the guaracha of her walk
the azuquita of her voice.
I fancied the colors of the rainbow,
the banging on congas,
the hunger of Salsa.
My Lord, I loved pan Cubano
con strawberry jam.
What does this all mean?
Frijoles negros (literally "black beans" in Spanish) is a nutritious dish made with black beans, prepared in Cuba, Puerto Rico, Mexico, and several other nations in Latin America.
Pan Cubano - Cuban bread
Guaracha - The guaracha is a genre of Cuban popular music, of rapid tempo and with lyrics
Azuquita - sugar
Su cabecita de algodón - his head of cotton
I recently came across a picture book that had me absolutely tickled! I was so taken with the book, that I called two girlfriends of mine and read them the book in its entirety. The book was titled "Celia Cruz: Queen of Salsa", by Veronica Chambers. Veronica Chambers did an excellent job in talking about Celia Cruz's upbringing in Cuba and in the United States. She spoke of the challenges Celia faced, her singing and her love for Pedro Knight. (I smile as I think of Pedro Knight and su cabecita de algodón).
The illustrator of this gem is Julie Maren. Julie did a magnificent job capturing Celia in all her colors! Celia Cruz was well known for her vibrant colors and breathtaking wigs. She was known for her flamboyant sense of style which was depicted beautifully in the artwork of this book.
There is a poet by the name Czeslaw Milosz who wrote a poem titled, "A Confession". The first line of the poem always makes me smile because, it's funny and odd to think that if one should be placed in front of a higher power or the Lord, that the first thing he'd say was how he loved strawberry jam as part of his confession. Below is an excerpt of that poem:
My Lord, I loved strawberry jam
And the dark sweetness of a woman’s body.
Also well-chilled vodka, herring in olive oil,
Scents, of cinnamon, of cloves.
So what kind of prophet am I?
Well if I were placed in front of the Lord to confess of the things I was most thankful for and loved, I'd certainly think of this book as part of my list. I'd begin like this:
For Celia
My Lord, I loved frijoles negros,
the guaracha of her walk
the azuquita of her voice.
I fancied the colors of the rainbow,
the banging on congas,
the hunger of Salsa.
My Lord, I loved pan Cubano
con strawberry jam.
What does this all mean?
Frijoles negros (literally "black beans" in Spanish) is a nutritious dish made with black beans, prepared in Cuba, Puerto Rico, Mexico, and several other nations in Latin America.
Pan Cubano - Cuban bread
Guaracha - The guaracha is a genre of Cuban popular music, of rapid tempo and with lyrics
Azuquita - sugar
Su cabecita de algodón - his head of cotton
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
En la calle San Sebastian
Just spending my morning with one of my favorite poets, fellow Brooklynite, essayist, translator.....Martín Espada.
Produced by the Poetry Foundation http://www.poetryfoundation.org/journal/videoitem.html?id=121
This poem is from the book titled, Alabanza: New & Selected Poems
Some of his other works are: Imagine the Angels of Bread (1996)which won an American Book Award and was a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award, City of Coughing and Dead Radiators (1993) and Rebellion is the Circle of a Lover’s Hands (1990).
He has also published a collection of essays, Zapata’s Disciple (South End, 1998); edited two anthologies, Poetry Like Bread: Poets of the Political Imagination from Curbstone Press (Curbstone, 1994) and El Coro: A Chorus of Latino and Latina Poetry (1997); and released a CD of poetry called Now the Dead will Dance the Mambo (Leapfrog, 2004). - http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/246
Martín Espada's official website: http://www.martinespada.net/
Produced by the Poetry Foundation http://www.poetryfoundation.org/journal/videoitem.html?id=121
This poem is from the book titled, Alabanza: New & Selected Poems
Some of his other works are: Imagine the Angels of Bread (1996)which won an American Book Award and was a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award, City of Coughing and Dead Radiators (1993) and Rebellion is the Circle of a Lover’s Hands (1990).
He has also published a collection of essays, Zapata’s Disciple (South End, 1998); edited two anthologies, Poetry Like Bread: Poets of the Political Imagination from Curbstone Press (Curbstone, 1994) and El Coro: A Chorus of Latino and Latina Poetry (1997); and released a CD of poetry called Now the Dead will Dance the Mambo (Leapfrog, 2004). - http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/246
Martín Espada's official website: http://www.martinespada.net/
Friday, July 10, 2009
Afro Puerto Rico
I found this great video while on my cyber "travels" that easily fed into my love of the African influence in our Puerto Rico culture and the history of slavery on our island. Orlando Abreo, a guide at El Museo de Nuestra Raiz Africana (the Museum of our African Roots), did a fabulous job at explaining the many ways African culture has contributed to our rich Puerto Rican culture.
So enjoy, digest and share as you see fit..... :-D
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dh-2E1KReBY
So enjoy, digest and share as you see fit..... :-D
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dh-2E1KReBY
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Relearning La Borinqueña
You know how you know a song but don't really know it? Thanks to my eight-year old daughter who is now in the "inquiring minds want to know" phase, I realized through a series of questions that I hadn't known 'La Borinqueña' (Puerto Rico's national anthem) as I thought I did. Time to do homework! Time to relearn La Borinqueña.
I'm proud to say I knew a good portion of the lyrics, the authors of the song among many other details that I was happy to be have in arm when "the short one" demanded answers from me. It always feels good when I have the answers buried in my skull for immediate retrieval (it makes me look smart..lol..), however I make sure that she understands that looking things up and researching are also marks of a smart and great thinker. In attempting to teach and explain the anthem to my daughter (who is also learning Spanish as we go), I discovered I had some of the words wrong. So we worked on it together and she is slowly committing it to memory as am I. In the meantime, I gave her some background information as to the creation of our national anthem and this is what we learned (cause I learned a few interesting facts myself):
- It is unclear as to who originally wrote La Borinqueña. Names like Francisco Ramírez Ortíz was said to have written and constructed the song for his lover. It was then said that the Catalan Félix Astol Artés made changes to the song and it's title. Félix Astol Artés changed the name of the song to La Bella Trigueña . Some time later Puerto Rican poet Lola Rodríguez de Tió was inspired to make a patriotic rendition of the song that supported the Puerto Rican revolution. And finally we have Manuel Fernández Juncos who also played a huge part in changing the lyrics of the song as well as Ramón Collado who also changed the melody to the one we know today.
- It was in 1952 that the government of Puerto Rico approved the music of 'La Borinqueña' and the words in 1977.
- I was disheartened when I came across this piece of information, but I should of known to expect it...FACT: Puerto Rico is a Commonwealth of the United States therefore its "official" anthem is "The Star Spangled Banner", but of course that is rarely if ever sung by the people on the island. WHEW!
- This I found really interesting. Lola Rodríguez de Tió has been credited for her suggestion that Puerto Ricans use the Cuban flag with its colors reversed. (Seeing how she lived in Cuba for so many years. Lola and her husband were deported from Puerto Rico for their separatists efforts).
- The title La Borinqueña refers to the aboriginal Taíno name for the island of Puerto Rico, `Boriken` or `Borinquen.`
- Regardless of which rendition of La Borinqueña was declared as Puerto Rico's national anthem, all of them are well known and still sung on the island.
La Borinqueña
Lyrics: Manuel Fernández Juncos (1846-1928)
La Borinqueña (march)
Lyrics: Lola Rodríguez de Tió
La Bella Trigueña (danza)
Lyrics: Félix Astol Artés (1813-1901)
The actual lyrics to the above renditions can be found at: http://welcome.topuertorico.org/bori.shtml
Helpful articles:
http://www.elboricua.com/LolaRodriguezTio.html
http://www.caribbeanbusinesscommunity.com/Puerto%20Rico.asp
I'm proud to say I knew a good portion of the lyrics, the authors of the song among many other details that I was happy to be have in arm when "the short one" demanded answers from me. It always feels good when I have the answers buried in my skull for immediate retrieval (it makes me look smart..lol..), however I make sure that she understands that looking things up and researching are also marks of a smart and great thinker. In attempting to teach and explain the anthem to my daughter (who is also learning Spanish as we go), I discovered I had some of the words wrong. So we worked on it together and she is slowly committing it to memory as am I. In the meantime, I gave her some background information as to the creation of our national anthem and this is what we learned (cause I learned a few interesting facts myself):
- It is unclear as to who originally wrote La Borinqueña. Names like Francisco Ramírez Ortíz was said to have written and constructed the song for his lover. It was then said that the Catalan Félix Astol Artés made changes to the song and it's title. Félix Astol Artés changed the name of the song to La Bella Trigueña . Some time later Puerto Rican poet Lola Rodríguez de Tió was inspired to make a patriotic rendition of the song that supported the Puerto Rican revolution. And finally we have Manuel Fernández Juncos who also played a huge part in changing the lyrics of the song as well as Ramón Collado who also changed the melody to the one we know today.
- It was in 1952 that the government of Puerto Rico approved the music of 'La Borinqueña' and the words in 1977.
- I was disheartened when I came across this piece of information, but I should of known to expect it...FACT: Puerto Rico is a Commonwealth of the United States therefore its "official" anthem is "The Star Spangled Banner", but of course that is rarely if ever sung by the people on the island. WHEW!
- This I found really interesting. Lola Rodríguez de Tió has been credited for her suggestion that Puerto Ricans use the Cuban flag with its colors reversed. (Seeing how she lived in Cuba for so many years. Lola and her husband were deported from Puerto Rico for their separatists efforts).
- The title La Borinqueña refers to the aboriginal Taíno name for the island of Puerto Rico, `Boriken` or `Borinquen.`
- Regardless of which rendition of La Borinqueña was declared as Puerto Rico's national anthem, all of them are well known and still sung on the island.
La Borinqueña
Lyrics: Manuel Fernández Juncos (1846-1928)
La Borinqueña (march)
Lyrics: Lola Rodríguez de Tió
La Bella Trigueña (danza)
Lyrics: Félix Astol Artés (1813-1901)
The actual lyrics to the above renditions can be found at: http://welcome.topuertorico.org/bori.shtml
Helpful articles:
http://www.elboricua.com/LolaRodriguezTio.html
http://www.caribbeanbusinesscommunity.com/Puerto%20Rico.asp
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