My reading project began detached from my English studies, but suddenly I understood that what I was studying also became apparent in the books of fiction I was reading outside the classroom. And this little gem certainly crossed the border between work and pleasure. It started out as the latter, but when I had to pick a topic for my term paper, I instantly knew it had to do with poetry.
And one morning, after a sleepless night, it came to me: this novel would be my way into the matter of aversion against poetry in the classroom. Because this was a novel, written in verse - a Frankenstein monster in the face of the "proper" definition of the literary genres. It was both a novel and poetry - and the poetry hit me straight in my heart. This was poetry I could understand and relate to - and the story of Xiomara, the protagonist of the story, became more and more exciting, frustrating, painful, excruciating, and surprising for me with every page I turned.
I must admit, I cried several times and even cursed a bit at the most dramatic parts. And I would read it again and again...
My favourite part/poem:
Homecoming
At the apartment door, I slide the key in,
but don't unlock.
I can hear both people behind me breathing.
Mami might not be home yet.
I still have time to gather my thoughts.
To get my life together.
But when I open the door
she is there. Standing in the kitchen,
wringing a dishrag. Her eyes are red.
And she looks small, so small.
Twin gives my shoulder a squeeze
and moves behind me.
I take a deep breath and square my shoulders.
"Mami, we need to talk.
And I think we need help to do it."
I step aside and let Father Sean cram into the kitchen.
He reaches out a hand to my mother: "Altagracia."
And this woman I've feared,
this woman who has been both mother and monster,
the biggest sun in my sky -
bright, blinding, burning me to the wick -
she hunches her shoulders and begins to sob.
Silent, silent crying that shakes her whole body.
And I'm stuck, and still.
Before I go to her.
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