Κυριακή, 22 Ιανουαρίου 2012

Awilda Castro Suárez.






Tu nombre

A ti que hiciste lo que soy, que tu recuerdo me sostiene, a ti que inspiras todo lo que hago,
 a ti, mi vieja.

Cuando digo tu nombre,
quiero decir recuerdo,
quiero decir ternura,
una sábana olorosa al dormir,
unos ojos que aunque cansados siempre alertas,
Al pronunciar tu nombre evoco café recién cola’o bien cargadito,
un arroz con gandules del día anterior,
unas viandas salpicadas de gusto en el sancocho,
la tersura de la maicena,
el vapor de las sopas,
las patitas de cerdo con garbanzos,
el pan de maíz casado con la leche,
el bizcocho de novia emparentado con las noticias,
las gomitas de china pegadas a tus encías,
las películas que te daban pesadillas y tu habitual insistencia que durmiera contigo.
Cuando digo tu nombre,
huelo polvo Maja, crema Pond, suavizador Final Touch, perfume de la Avon, jabón
Dove,
huelo recao, cilantrillo, ajo, cebolla
huelo sofrito.
Cuando digo tu nombre,
pienso en ternura, en apoyo,
en tus ojos negros ya casi cegatos,
en tu pelo canoso sin tintes,
en tus arrugas,
en tus grandes orejas, en tus nalguitas escurridas,
en tus grandes cejas,
en tus piernas llenas de várices,
en el tiempo que eran piernas gordas y bellas.
y pienso en tus trajes hechos a la medida con aquellas telas de la Tienda Paco,
en tus piernas peludas,
en tus zapatos negros de La Gloria, brillados con Griffin.
Y te pienso dichosa, feliz,
con tu mente clara de nuevo,
con tus recuerdos organizados,
con tus susurros para tranquilizar mis lágrimas
con aquel “lo que importa es que yo te quiera”
Y te pienso sin locura, sin insultos, sin malas palabras
como cuándo aún había inocencia.
Te pienso con amor eterno,
eterno como los recuerdos.
te pienso como lo más bonito de mi vida,
Cuando digo ternura,
amor, apoyo, sentimientos,
recuerdos y vínculo,
quiero decir abuela,
quiero decir Mercedes.

Nostalgia at Pennsylvania Dutch Country

“Mother, Borinquen is calling me!  This country is not mine!
Borinquen is pure flame, while here I die frozen.”   -Nostalgia  Virgilio Dávila

I dreamed of a saving account,
a house,
a white picket fence,
a dog,
a garden,
clean streets.

I migrated to the cold jungles of William Penn,
the trucks throwing salt in the streets,
the squirrels hanging from cables,
the Pagoda covered with snow,
the train cars scribbled with graffiti,
the six cold months,
the gloves that I always lose.
Now I dream of
the “fonda” that cooks Hispanic stews,
the “bodega” with cilantro and recao,
the radio station playing El Gran Combo after a “reggaetón” song,
the one dollar guavas
this nostalgia that never warms me completely.

I dream of the rain showers flooding Puerto Nuevo
while the snow accumulates in the gutters of my house,
the papaya shakes at the farmers market,
the traffic jams in Buchanan,
Twenty-five murders on a long weekend,
the Spanish cakes of La Ceiba,
the bus driver turning up the volume to hear the dirty jokes on the morning radio show,
the beggars at the street lights,
the loud music blasting out the speakers of a political campaign van,
the blue colonial bricks under the sun,
the Coronas on the Boricua Bar on 100 hundred degrees nights,
the drums in a Saint Sebastian party and my body moving with the rhythm,
reading Benedetti  in La Tertulia,
orgasms against the colonial fortress,
my first in the air dreaming of freedom,
eating Vienna sausages during the hurricanes.

“Mother, Borinquen is calling me!”
loud and constant,
I dream with my invented country,
built with fondness, out of shortages
and retouched memories fitted to my longing.
 “Mother, Borinquen is calling me!...
and in here I die frozen”
The weather forecast  temperatures below zero,
but I can feel  her warmth inside me,
dissolving the wintry mix,
like salt thrown on the sidewalk.
As long as I have memory, I may feel cold to my bones,
but I will never die frozen.




Awilda I. Castro Suarez is a writer and translator. Born and raised in Puerto Rico she has a Bachelor’s degree in public communication from the University of Puerto Rico and a Master’s degree in Spanish journalism from Florida International University. She lives in Reading, Pennsylvania. Castro Suarez has been published in numerous magazines, such has Off the Coast, Mad Poets, Philadelphia Poets and in books anthologies. Her poem, “Nostalgia at Pennsylvania Dutch Country” won the Editor’s Choice in the Sixth Annual Amy Tritsch Needle Award given by the Philadelphia Poets. She is an active member of Berks Bards, organizes writing workshops for different community groups and hosts poetry readings. She has published a book of poetry about immigration titled, Loneliness Country. Castro Suarez is also working on her first novel. http://www.alvernia.edu/events/2011/10/writers-series.php Posted by Yolanda Arroyo Pizarro  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yolanda_Arroyo_Pizarro http://narrativadeyolanda.blogspot.com/