Last week, I found myself passionately reading sonnets by Pablo Neruda to my 2-year-old. Yes, I know that sounds obnoxious, but the book is all pink, and she pulled it off the shelf…then I found the poem in it we read at our wedding…then I told her how romantic it was that Neruda wrote a hundred love sonnets for his wife…And somewhere between eyerolls, my husband suggested I should write love sonnets for the girls.
Now, that sounds easier than it is. Which I told him. In a former life, I was a poet who wrote poems regularly and developed her craft. But somewhere between the babies and the job and and and…I’m lucky to get out a blog post here or there. Still, I let myself think about it and that night I tried to compose one while up with the baby in middle of the night. I’ve heard other moms say they compose blog posts like that. However, I didn’t write it down and it dissapeared. Whoosh. So, I did what I could and I wrote a poem, and you’ll find it below.
But, regardless of the poem, or maybe because of the poem, I’m thinking now of my other tongue. Not English or Spanish, but my creative tongue that used to tell stories and make poems. I think perhaps I need to use that one more often. As mothers and fathers, we are always code-switching between languages and roles, negotiating with ourselves for time and space. I keep speaking in Spanish, Spanglish, and English to my girls because I want them to be able to speak in these idiomas facilmente. I want them to always have the words to express themselves. Today, I’m thinking that maybe that’s too two-dimensional. So I’m going to try to also show them how to speak like a poeta, and maybe tomorrow like a scientist, and then like a mathmetician. Because if I want them to love their two languages, then I need them to play in all their voices and I know they have multitudes of voices inside. We all do.
Lost Poem by Elsie Rivas Gomez
I wrote a poem for you
at 3 am while rocking you, patting your warm back
willing your eyes to close, like mine
I wrote it between the beats of my heart
on the exhale of my breath into your hair
But it’s gone now
the sun filled our bed
and washed it away like the dark
edged out by the rising light
it was about you
something about
your eyes, how they hold your secrets
how inside them I can see
flickers of the woman you’ll become
it was about your skin
made of milk and tears
of so many spoken and unspoken wishes
I wanted to say something about how I am a mother
because you are my baby
how both those things can only be true together,
like some mathematical equation that I feel in my bones
I think I said something
about seeing my body in your body
at times
but how other times, like now,
you are a total surprise to me
with a dimple that didn’t come from me or your father
with a wry smile I don’t recognize
the poem I wrote for you was a sonnet
in iambic pentameter
which is easy to write in while rocking
to the sound of our hearts beating
but this moment
I’ve snuck away to type as your father holds you
and your sister dances for you
this moment is not so
rhythmic
it’s a stolen moment without you
the light harsher and the world noisier mid-morning
I just wanted to tell you
that there is a poem in me, and it is about you.
Even though the words are gone, it’s here
in the space beneath the center of my chest,
where you like to lay your head and sleep.
Poema Perdido por Elsie Rivas Gomez
Te escribi un poema
a las tres de la manaña, mientras te mecía, acariciandio tu espalda calientita
esperando que tus ojos se cierren, como los mios
Lo escribí entre los latidos de mi corazón
en la exhalación de mis respiros en tu pelo
Pero ahora se ha perdido
el sol llenó nuestra cama
y lo arrastró como la oscuridad
desplazada por la luz
se trataba de ti
algo acerca
de tus ojos, cómo guardan tus secretos
cómo dentro de ellos puedo ver
destellos de la mujer en la que te vas a convertir
se trataba de tu piel
hecha de leche y lágrimas
de tantos deseos hablados y secretos
Yo quería decir algo acerca de cómo soy una madre
porque vos sos mi bebé
cómo estas dos cosas sólo pueden ser verdaderas a la misma vez,
como una ecuación matemática que siento en mis huesos
Creo que dije algo
de ver mi cuerpo en tu cuerpo
a veces
pero cómo otras veces, como ahora,
sos un sorpresa completa
con un hoyuelo que no vino de mí ni de tu padre
con una sonrisa irónica que no reconozco
el poema que escribí para ti era un soneto
en pentámetro yámbico
que es fácil de escribir, mientras en la mecedora
al ritmo de los latidos de nuestros corazones
pero este momento
que me he escapado mientras tu padre te tiene en sus brazos
y tu hermana baila para ti
este momento no es tan
rítmico
es un momento robado lejos de ti
la luz más dura y el mundo más ruidoso a media mañana
Solo te quería decir
que hay un poema en mí, y es acerca de ti.
Aunque las palabras se han ido, está aquí
en el espacio debajo del centro de mi pecho,
donde te gusta acostar tu cabeza y soñar.
Please, in the comments, share with me the other “languages” and voices you want to share and/or foster with your kids and any ideas you have for how to do so.
The poem was beautiful and captures our thoughts as we look at our babies. I look forward to reading more poetry.
Thanks, Maria! I wasn’t sure how the poetry would go over. This is encouraging!
Elsie – That is absolutely lovely. Very personal and moving. Thank you / gracias for sharing something so intimate.
What a beautiful, beautiful poem, Elsie! Tienes un gran don! Your daughters are lucky to have a poet for a mom! Oh, and you did an awesome job translating it to Spanish, not an easy task at all.
I think what you write about is so very true, it has to be more than just English and/or Spanish and it’s up to us, as you say, to teach our kids to express themselves in all the voices they have inside. In my household, one of these is music. My entire family adores it and my daughter is starting to show a real interest for different instruments. While we were in Lima last week, she was given a quena (an Andean flute) as a gift and she was lucky to be shown how it’s played by my aunt’s husband, who’s a musician.
Again, thanks for gifting us with such a heart-warming piece which was obviously written with a lot of love!
Si, MUSICA y BAILE! We used to have a nightly dance party, but we’ve fallen out of the habit…I think we may have to reinstitute the tradicion! And thank you for the kind words.
Elsie, I can not thank you enough for this. It is amazing how we forget about our other tongues, our other MEs in our attempt to be it all.
It’s right in line with your post on dancing. We have to try and keep those fires burning! I need to follow that advice myself.
Snuck a moment at work to read this blog post and then had to duck into the conference room to compose myself. My little girl is 19 years old now. Your poem brought it all back, just for a moment but it was very sweet.
Thank you for this.
Beth: They will always be our little girls won’t they? I can see with my own mother that I am still sometimes her baby in her eyes. It’s a lovely feeling.
This post brought tears to my eyes & reminded me of all the voices that make us who we are. Thank you for sharing.
What a beautiful poem that honestly brought tears to my eyes. As an on-again-off-again writer who is now a mother to a 4 and 2 year old I understand what it means to “lose yourself” and in particular your creative self. I too have “written” poems in my head, while driving to preschool, or doing dishes, seeming never to be able to “get it on paper”. Your words are beautiful and spoke to me on so many levels. Thank you.
Maria: think that it is SOOOO hard to make time to write, because it feels “selfish.” Ironically, I always encourage my husband to write, (he’s a playwright), and I consider that “work” for him. For myself I think of it as a luxury. I think this is a common thing for moms, but something I want to change about myself. Was it Audre Lorde who said “poetry is not a luxury”?
Wow, wow, wow. Most beautiful thing I’ve read in quite awhile. Some day that poem will be your daughter’s dearest treasure.
(As for your post, thanks for the reminder.)
can i tell you that your poem made me well up brought tears to my eyes? because it did. babies are something else, aren’t they?
Elsie – absolutely beautiful. Thank you for generously sharing with us. You’ve made this new mamita teary eyed, like when I see my Diego discovering something new in his three-month old beautiful eyes.
I want to teach Diego the voices of respect, humor, understanding and love; including his father’s generosity, work ethic and nobility – in both English and Spanish, Spanglish too, why not? I’d like him to learn and love Spanish as his first language, just like his mamita and papito. I want to hear him say, “Ven aquí” like his Mexican güelita Mamaíta and also say, “Vení vos,” like his Salvadorean abue Mamaía.
Looking forward to reading more from you.
Congratulations! I’ve always loved that name.I love all the voices you mention. What I notice with Marisol is that she (and all kids) is sooo fluent in those voices, sometimes I think it’s my job just not to quiet them, you know?
Elsie,
I read your poem about 5 minutes ago, and then I tried to read it again… But I cant stop crying. I am dreaming of holding my baby resting in my tummy right now and admiring her this way. At the same time thinking of my mom holding me and admiring me, and the moments that escape us. This is so SO special. Mari and Lulu are going to be so thankful for this.
Oh, Anna. Mil Gracias! I can’t wait for you to meet your girl. It is all rather amazing. Being a mom is such a privelege.
Absolutely amazing! Looking forward to more Elsie!
I cried before I even got to the poem – “Because if I want them to love their two languages, then I need them to play in all their voices and I know they have multitudes of voices inside. We all do.” So true and so easy to let that slip by when you’re busy being mom. I’m slowly but surely flexing my writing muscles again and it feels so good.
Then I got to your poem and well, more tears – happy, joyful tears from eyes that have read something beautiful, something they recognize but did not know they were looking for.
Gracias =)
Beautiful post. Beautiful poem. I was never a good writer, but when I had children, I was able to write some poems that couldn’t have come from anywhere but my heart. Children are wonderful like that. Thanks for sharing yours with us!
Susan
Me encanta el poema… Its very being: a catching up on good intentions, always making up for things in moments where the priority placed on our children has a quiet moment of relief. Awesome rhetorical reality: being the very sentiment it expresses. It captures the commitment and life and passion we breathe into the everyday mundane moments of motherhood. Thank you for sharing!
Very very beautiful, I can only hope that my Spanish is one day good enough to be able to write poetry in both languages and not just English. Your poem made me smile, and cry and go and watch my 14 month old baby girl sleeping. Thank you very much for sharing.
I know the feeling all too well. I miss that creative voice everyday. Quite a difficult thing to be able to somehow incorporate it into each day in a way that includes Degas as well. I don’t know if I’ve been all that successful, but I recently started trying to do just that. I choose a favorite, print it out and tape it the the surface of the table where he sits each morning to eat breakfast before school. I leave it there for a couple of weeks with the hope that something will be absorbed. We talk about it over dinner and he’ll ask his questions. Sometimes he doesn’t like it at all—but other times, just like you said, he’ll surprise me.
I hope all is well,
Cassandra
p.s.
great poem
great idea, Cassandra!!!
i have a fabric tablecloth to hide my ugly table and over that is a large piece of clear vinyl (easier to clean)… hm… i could slide printouts under the clear vinyl! i am sure there could be some conversations started!