| Noemi Lamotte-Serrano
USA PARAÍSO >From deep down inside a place that can't be touched the desire burns for Paradise O Promised Land, I fear too much. In dark brown eyes where desperation lies stagnant los perdidos are swallowed up behind bars and closed doors where las madres lloran porque no saben cambiar y los hijos de nadie search through streets and solitude for a taste of Paradise. Where young girls struggle to slip out of their fathers' closed fists momentary freedom lost to vatos with sweet palabras, promesas of paraíso. Where gang love replaces the beauty of los abuelitos pride upon planting calloused feet onto her heart breaking soil. They who arrived with dreams of justice lost themselves in endless fields of strawberries and sangre. Their children became silent in schools punished for words that fell from not yet legal lips And mothers whose fingers bled from making clothes in factories came home and couldn't seem to sew their families back together. Stitches came undone and too much was lost. Hands too tired to wipe away the tears prayed for sleep to bring back dreams of paradise. Little boys became the toy soldiers they had held with innocent fingers killing themselves again and again in the faces of their enemies. Playgrounds turned to prisons and still they own nothing but memories. Flashbacks of fairy tales they never believed in: the softness of a woman's touch, the first high from which they never truly fell. On street corners they stand frozen in time as generations pass by buying and selling plastic bags that promise paradise but laugh with blunt emptiness as the illusions fade and even death itself no longer offers peace. It is here in this valley of repetition that search for belonging leads to unwanted children. Set up one by one to take that ancient fall while no one realizes it is in their eyes that paradise is born >From deep down inside a place that can't be touched the desire burns for Paradise O Promised Land, I fear too much. © Copyright, 6/10/98, Noemi Lamotte-Serrano. two shadows I wait for your shadow to appear behind me though I know the door is locked at the chain and you could not get in even if you wanted to. Outside the wind blows calmly like the breath of a sleeping child but here in this room the air is still and waiting. Waiting always - every inch of my existence waiting for your shadow. I think of all the words I want to give you they dance circles inside my mouth, begging for release but when at last you arrive you are met at the door with silence. Don't you ever wonder where all the sadness goes? How can I possibly hide all this waiting beneath soft smiles and warm hands? But still, you see nothing but your own regrets. At night, I hold you while inexplicable tears slide down your cheeks I catch them before they slip into your ears drown the sorrow with comforting words and when finally you fall into deep, untroubled sleep I crawl silently out of bed and into the darkness of the living room where I weep quietly and alone, half waiting for you to awaken and call me to you, half waiting to hear myself scream into your unknowing. But the night marches steadily and uneventfully on. I creep quietly back into bed before the sun rises tears stowed away, words buried beneath the desire to keep us both happy. As the sun creeps in through the cracks of the blinds you stir and pull me to you and despite the distance I feel inside our bodies still fit together perfectly. Two shadows, merged into one brief moment where there are no words to wait for. © Copyright, 9/19/98, Noemi Lamotte-Serrano. sunset In the empty flicker of a snowy screen dreams I lost years ago whisper softly a harsh call in the gray of tomorrow. Behind rusty iron bars La Llorona waits as she has for centuries... Sunset over the giant dipper the night sky brings new meaning to these tired streets. The veteranos scatter themselves around porches older than their forgotten dreams longing to remember when this dirty barrio meant more than life itself, when pride was enough to fill an empty stomach and carnalismo was a blanket of numbness on cold nights. Tomorrow they will awaken to a changing world that holds no understanding for them but for now they are content to lose themselves in the past, to swallow regret along with gulps of warm tecate, And I too remember... when a tattooed arm around me was strong enough to provide a superficial happiness the victory of a street fight dulled the anger and escaping death and screaming sirens was challenge enough to overpower the pain. When a homegirls loyalty was something I could believe in and the future was a destiny which did not concern me. Those days faded like forgotten black and white photographs distorted images of light and dark giving way to bursts of colors I now recognize as change. Flashes of my life are projected on a blank wall of tomorrow and I sometimes miss the courage desperation brought. It was on those cold streets I found and lost hope, family, and my dreams. In those alleys I discovered hate and hypocrisy, learned love and illusion and even caught glances of myself in razored down mirrors. The past no longer offers pain only indifference and the future is a promise I can now afford to make. In the early morning stages of sleep I stumble through nightmares. I bridge the gulf between truth and lies and despite my fear of darkness resolve to close this glowing gateway to yesterday. It is in this very moment of confusion that I find clarity and closure. Another chapter ends and with hungry eyes I watch my fingers turn the page. © Copyright, 9/16/99, Noemi Lamotte-Serrano. All Rights Reserved. Printed By Permission. |