tall sugar canes were your first memory
home was in the valley of the mountains
eating sweet mangos under a hot sun
rivers nearby where the ladies laundered
every images imprinted as the plan
soared across the Atlantic ocean to
a new home in cold Pennsylvania
middle name and an “h” added by nuns
and English placed on your tongue
recollections of Espanol slowly fade
you have become Americanized
- Written for dVerse Meeting the Bar: Tell Me Your Name
Bravo, nice one, Arcadia
ReplyDeleteThanks for dropping by my blog
Much love
Thank you Gillena.
DeleteThe eternal quandary of the immigrant life. Nice write AM 👏
ReplyDeleteThank you.
DeleteI enjoyed your tribute to your Spanish madre, Maria, and the ease with which you created your name acrostic. I love the thought of ‘eating sweet mangos under a hot sun’ and the ‘rivers nearby where the ladies laundered’. It’s so sad to lose your native tongue.
ReplyDeleteIt is. Thanks for reading Kim.
DeleteBeautifully constructed, your Spanish madre's experience.
ReplyDeleteThank you Merril.
DeleteWhat a beautiful tribute to your querida madre Maria 🩷
ReplyDeleteGracias, Ange.
Delete🙂👍🏼✌🏼
ReplyDeleteThank you Rob.
DeleteSuch power nuns have had over time! I'm sorry your mother's name was changed when she came here. Between that and the shock of the climate difference and food, cannot imagine what else she may have gone through. Your love and protective spirit rest in this poem for your mom.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much, Lisa.
DeleteI like the "English placed on your tongue" as though it was their decision, not yours.
ReplyDeleteThanks Judy.
DeleteThis was a lovely remembrance.
ReplyDeleteThank you Christopher.
Delete