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In Loving Memory: Maria Cruz Villarreal (1915-2001)
(an excerpt from a long poem)
In Loving Memory: Maria Cruz Villarreal (1915-2001)
JOHN 16:20 --- "...you will be sorrowful,
but your sorrow will be turned to joy."
I.
Her near-century of beaded prayer calls to her ten
to string back in a final
necklace of farewell... amor
reaching out even in her fragile state:
Cómo están todos? She continuously calls out...
On the line, she asks me,
Cuándo vienes a verme?
Ya voy ahora, Mami!
Desde Tejas?
Sí, llego en dos días.
Que tengas un bien viaje.
I love you, Mami.
I lub ju tu.
Another migration route soon settles in...
II.
I leave with my husband and teen son that evening
Each turn of the car’s wheel draws me
closer to her brown-soft...
At a gas stop, snow capped mountains greet the
setting sun, glowing on early evening
Monstrous mountain,
your rockstare burns onto the sandtown of Van Horn,
while the little woman lies in a hospital bed
breaking down in her final hours, states away,
drawing her children to her from all parts of the land...
Mementos peer through the glass-walled tourist shop at
a restaurant stop, as a van’s radio blare joins the
roaring wheels of freeway motorists
I wonder: is she doing better?
III.
In El Paso, a brown owl perches on
wood gate of barbed wire fencing,
gazing at the desert under winter clouds
Tecolote solo - a life is birthed an island, exiting the same
cars pass east and west.
On the other side of the snaking Rio,
Mexico peers through aged adobe homes dotting the hills
in contrast to the rich U.S. side hugging its own.
My cells still feel at home amid poverty; learn late
the concepts of comfort and luxury
Juarez waves a gargantuan Mexican flag hovering proudly over its land -
a majestic symbol of a shifted border - its banner calls I long
to cross to the other side...
Eventually,
one more state to drive through
and we’ll be in California...
Please hang in there Mami...
IV.
We arrive in Banning at midnite, the sky cries freezing rain
Into the vacant motel room I whisper,
"Mami, give me strength for whatever
will happen in the next few days.."
Yellow mums sunsmile in the hospital room
where esperanza never diminishes
Beto, our father, brings her bits of home and his petal kisses
as Cruz springs back in rebirth.
Such loving power
in this tiny, humble body whose eyes can no
longer gather strength to read her much-loved biblia
V.
Gradually migrating to her bedside, most of her children arrive:
Three daughters take turns reading from the book of JUAN
"Con la biblia me preparo para la muerte," she whispers.
Her niños gather ‘round- doves bearing an olive branch,
each pearl bead grown lustrous through years, yet
retain a core of hardened pain so deep, almost forgotten,
now sending pangs of a different hurt to their hard surface...
strung together in
one final chain of her bodily creations
Before final closure, she wishes to
view her particles of sand, now transformed into the grand luster
she’ll leave behind.
...before the tiny stream in her hourglass
falls to its last grains
VI.
Sons and daughters trail in and out of her hospital room..
at all hours; her condition constantly shifts-decisions,
decisions,... countless long-distant updates to loved ones, as days
turned to a month
Leaves of peace sprout from the tree of reconciliation-
Lilies of the Valley reunite in a healing wreath of victory
to place upon Maria’s head: una reina morena de amor
still emanating joy from an unending well of hope-
her everpresent gift of ánimo passed on to the tenth generation...
life’s offerings
sprout from her brown fingertips-
soothing tears
seeding gardens:
"Hijos, take them, and may they bloom to seed once more..."
— Anjela Villarreal Ratliff
(an excerpt from a long poem)
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A brief excerpt from A REVIEW --- by Steve Vera
HUNGER OF MEMORY -
The Education of Richard Rodriguez (An Autobiography)
By Richard Rodriguez
In his coming of age autobiography, author Richard Rodriguez describes the growing pains
of a Mexican-American boy assimilating into the dominant Anglo-American culture,
while in search of the American dream. This story is unique because,
unlike many Mexican-American children, Rodriguez grew up in an Irish-American,
middle-class neighborhood in Sacramento California. His parents were very ambitious,
working their way into a middle-class position. Therefore, Rodriguez and his siblings
went to excellent, Catholic private schools. His upbringing helped him excel
academically at Stanford University, but also led to his having trouble
considering himself a "minority student." Few Mexican-Americans have the privelege
of growing up in this kind of academic home environment.
As I read this book, it took me to a journey back into my own life. Contrasting my life
with the life which Rodriguez describes drew some entertaining, instructive,
and poignant comparisons.
In the chapter titled "Aria," Rodriguez states
that as a child he felt that Spanish was the private language of his family
and English was the loud, public language of the outside world. What created
this odd distinction was that his schoolmates were Irish-Americans. When
Rodriguez first entered school he mainly spoke Spanish. As a result,
Rodriguez felt intimidated and isolated. Always eager to get back home to speak
Spanish and be comfortable with his family, he resented having to learn English.
Although it was a painful process, Rodriguez learned English well,
and eventually drew his own conclusion that intimacy does not exist in any language,
rather, that intimacy is a special relationship that exists between people.
However, in the book, he never admits that the pressure to acquire a different
dominant language created a communication barrier between him and his parents;
but, he does point out that his parents, being older, had more trouble mastering
the complex nuances of English.
My own experience with growing up amid two languages was
different. ...
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