Sin Cantar

My mother and her little sister share a birthday month.  They were both August babies.  Nordia was born on August 8, 1960 and my mother two years earlier on August 24.  A few weeks ago, I learned that the day had mostly passed without me even knowing it was my aunt's birthday and it upset me.  I managed to squeeze in a blog entry quickly before the stroke of midnight in her honor.  However, realizing that this date is not part of my personal, mental calendar was unsettling.  I know my Tía Mima is September 25, my Tío Picho is July 16 and the rest of my relatives is whenever Facebook tells me so.  I have memories growing up of candles and pictures and prayers for family members.  The dates though, didn't stick with me.  It was not something I would remember to continue on my own.  I realized I wanted to change that.  I wanted to take the time to remember.  To remember something I never knew in the first place.  Pondering the fact that I've never wished my aunt a happy birthday started to haunt me.  It saddened me to accept that I didn't know the date because I never celebrated it.  It wasn't in my routine.  I know other relatives birthdays because I was able to share in it.  This was something I never experienced.

To cope with the frustration and help express my newfound mourning I decided to attempt to write a poem.  For some reason I felt inspired to challenge myself by writing in Spanglish.  I've written several English poems growing up and sadly only one completely in Spanish, but never anything in Spanglish.  It was more difficult than I expected to try to actively think in two languages and manipulate their words together.  Forcing my  brain to jump back and forth was tricky.  I somehow managed to jumble enough stuff together to somewhat adequately release my emotions.

This past weekend was a beautiful time with my family where I got to celebrate my parents' birthdays.  I am very grateful to have them both with me.  I feel blessed that I can continue to share in the joy of their lives.  I am thankful that I can count every August 24 and August 27 to mark the gift of their presence here at my side.  We ate, we drank, we sang, we danced, we laughed, we loved.

I wish this was something I could also have shared with my Tía Nordia.

~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~

Sin Cantar

Lips never to part,
Breath withheld
A broken heart
Silence propelled.

I never sang,
Nunca.
The celebration robbed.
The night continues to hang,
Holding back Las Mañanitas.

1960 was the year,
Y mi Mamita,
The youngest child, casi dos
With a reason to cheer,
Su nueva hermanita.

Y juntas,
Las niñas jugaron,
Sisters together a crecer,
Pero los días las abadonaron
Dejando a mi Tía caer.

A cumplir, y cumplir
Y cumplir los años
Sola una los cumplió
La otra sola en nuestros sueños
Porque la historia se los robó

Diez y ocho
Just shy of 19
Una joven, barely adult
En la guerra, so obscene
With a treacherous result.

The 19th candle never lit,
Its little fire never blown
A darker spark does now emit
As the day has changed its tone.

Cinquenta y tres
Is what my aunt would be,
Had war not given her less,
To steal years so tragically.

The only celebration,
A dictator's flight.
But amidst the mourning,
Dim is the light.
Tainted by the blood split.
The rosquillas are consumed
with spoiled milk.

Her cake not cut,
Su canción held back
Sufriendo el dolor
Deep in the gut.
Hay nada más,
But remnants of the attack.

Nada.

Y nunca será.

La gente solo reza
Que un día lo aceptará.

Aquí queda la sobrina,
A niece never to know
La culpa americana
That struck the final blow.

Kidnapping the smile
That would grace her face
Left in denial
That this could take place.

No regalos, ni piñatas,
No memories to share
Just the ravage of los piratas
And the lingering dispair.

La única vela quemando
Not upon a cake, pero en el altar
Su cumpleaños, observando
Sin la música, Sin cantar.