Rebozos
64
Rebozos
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Overview
Celebrating both the rebozo as a cultural icon of Mexico and the series of rebozo-inspired paintings by Mexican-California artist Catalina Gárate, this bilingual collection of poems gives voices of strength, endurance, joy, and sorrow to the women of Gárate’s paintings. The rebozo is considered a physical manifestation of Mexican womanhood throughout every stage of life and can be used as a tool of daily labor: a sling to carry children, a shield from weather or from prying eyes, an heirloom, and even a shroud. Inspired by each painting, these poems, in both Spanish and English, are accompanied by a historical explanation of the role of the rebozo in Mexican history, art, and culture.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781609402310 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Wings Press |
| Publication date: | 11/01/2012 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 64 |
| File size: | 2 MB |
| Language: | Spanish |
About the Author
Catalina Gárate is an artist and an illustrator. Her works have been exhibited in San Jose, Fresno, Austin, McAllen, Corpus Christi, and El Paso. She lives in San Jose, California. Hector García Manzanedo was a noted anthropologist and professor of sociology at San Jose Tate University for more than 20 years. He was a museographer at the Museo Antropológico de México who also worked in indigenous communities in Mexico. Carmen Tafolla is a professor and a writer-in-residence at the University of Texas–San Antonio. She is the author of more than 20 books, including Curandera, The Holy Tortilla and a Pot of Beans, and Sonnets and Salsa, and the recipient of numerous literary honors, including the Américas Award, the Art of Peace Award, the Charlotte Zolotow Award, two Tomás Rivera Mexican-American Book Awards, and two International Latino Book Awards. She is a member of the San Antonio Women’s Hall of Fame and was named the first poet laureate of San Antonio. She lives in San Antonio, Texas.
Read an Excerpt
Rebozos
By Carmen Tafolla
Wings Press
Copyright © 2012 Wings PressAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-60940-233-4
CHAPTER 1
Mujeres del Rebozo Rojo
Who are we
las mujeres del rebozo rojo
who are always waiting for the light
hungry for the pink drops of morning
on the night's sky
searching for the sparkle of creation
of beginning
of life
on the dawn's edge
trying so hard
to open our eyes
Who are we
las mujeres del rebozo rojo
who want to reach and stretch and spread
and grow beyond our limits
yawning
pulling up our heads
pushing out our lungs
arching out our arms
resting only when in growth
transition
transformation
wanting only to be and
to become
to unfold our lives as if they were
rebozos
revealing
our inner colors
the richness of our texture
the strength of our weave
the history of our making
opening to
all our fullness
blossoms set free
spreading our wings to the reach of the sky and awakening
to who
we really
are
Las Mujeres del Rebozo Rojo
¿Quiénes somos,
las mujeres del rebozo rojo?
las que esperamos siempre luz
hambrientas de las gotas rosadas,
del rocío matutino,
buscando en la noche
el destello de la creación,
de un comienzo,
de la vida,
al borde del amanecer,
haciendo lo imposible
para abrir los ojos.
¿Quiénes somos,
las mujeres del rebozo rojo?
Las que deseamos estirarnos
extendernos
expandirnos
y crecer más allá de nuestros límites
Despertar, levantar la cabeza,
llenar los pulmones, arquear los brazos,
y descansar solo en crecer
en transitar
en transformarnos
con el deseo único de ser
y llegar a ser
Desplegar nuestras vidas como si fueran rebozos
revelando sus colores internos
la riqueza de nuestra textura
la fortaleza de la urdimbre
la historia de nuestra creación
Florecer
en todo nuestro esplendor,
capullos abiertos
Extender alas hasta el borde del cielo
Y despertar
a quienes
realmente
somos
Rebozo Rojo (Oil on canvas)
This painting of a woman awakening to the dawn was chosen as the front cover for one of Tafolla's poetry collections, and later became the inspiration for the creation of this art and ekphrastic poetry book by Gárate and Tafolla.
They Call Me Soledad
Soledad
lives inside me
lives where the rebozo
wraps around my heart
where the work that's mine
is mine alone
where the questions
have no answers
and I alone
must answer them
Soledad
lives inside me
where the face unpainted
lives without a face
and only light
can wash it
where the desert and the mountains meet
and I alone must greet them
must wait to take their dawn
their icy breath, their searing heat
Soledad
lives inside me
carries my face
carries my name
but even when her name is called
only I can answer for her
so I take what life has handed me
squeeze from it
the sweetness of the cactus juice
the warmth of sunlight free upon my face
the deep, rich strength of one who answers
to the name of
Soledad
Me Llamo Soledad
Soledad
vive dentro de mí
vive donde el rebozo envuelve
mi corazón
Donde las preguntas
no tienen respuestas
y sólo estoy yo
para contestarlas
Soledad
vive dentro de mí
en un vacío
al parecer sin cara
que sólo la luz
anima y lava
Donde el cielo y la tierra
se encuentran
y sólo estoy yo
en esa vastedad
de intenso colorido
de contrastes
de calor y hielo
Soledad
vive dentro de mí
tratando de borrar mi nombre
de borrar mi cara
Pero yo sé como
exprimirle
el dulce jugo a la tuna
gozar
del calor del sol
acariciando mi cara
y sentir adentro
la rica fuerza
de quien puede responder
al nombre de
Soledad
Soledad (Oil on canvas)
Many young women who work as criadas, child-maids turned over to a household as young as eight or nine years old, often work, clean house, cook and raise the children for a family their entire lives. With no one to turn to but their employers, many of these young women find their resilience and their maturity within their own internal strength. Soledad, a common name for women in Mexico, means Solitude.
La Witch
Watch out for La Bruuuuja, La Witch
I saw her last night, wrapped in silence
wrapped in her magic and potions for love
wrapped in things that confuse the sky up above
Steaming brews, yellow powders, dried leaves
Strange butterflies always around her
of odd, unnamed colors and, by her head,
hummingbirds green with rainbow-dust wings
She looked at the heavens and stars appeared!
She looked at the wind and it started to howl!
And then she almost looked at me
A look with no face and
instead of eyes
Two deep mysteries
full of possibilities
full of sighs
full of vision into the heart
full of
powers
which I
will
request
to enchant and
entrance
the One I watch
the One I want
the One who will be
mi amor
La Bruja
Cuida'o con la bruja
que anoche la vi
envuelta en silencio
en magias y amores
que al cielo confundan
Pociones amarillentas
Brebajes hirviendo
Hojas secas, extrañas flores
Mariposas pequeñas de raro color
y siempre cerca de su cabeza
colibríes verdes
con pechitos rojos
y alas irisadas
Miró al cielo
y salieron estrellas
Miró al viento
y comenzó a soplar
Y casi volteó hacia mí
Una mirada sin cara
y en vez de ojos
misterios profundos
poderes
que iré a pedir
para conseguir
a ese
al que quiero
a mi amor
La Bruja (Oil on canvas)
"The woman with powers was often feared, but she also became a resource when powerful or even magical intervention was required. Brujas were also sought out to cure mal de amores, using hummingbirds as amulets for love." — C.G.
Waiting
Time is an animal
I do not understand
A young coyote
too shy
to come
too near
I whisper
offer morsels sabrositos
open hands, blooms of hope
but he stays just outside
my reach
Lungs sigh
crawl through hours of dry adobe dust
I try to coo him into creeping close
but gold coyote eyes twitch restlessly
flash their untamed distance
Listen, timid one
I breathe quietly
hands still as stones,
Coyotito,
rebozo silent as the desert's breath
I'll even turn my head away
promise not to lift my gaze
if only you will come
near enough
to touch
La Espera
El tiempo es un animal
que no entiendo,
un coyotito muy tímido
que no se me quiere
acercar
Le ruego
ofrezco antojitos sabrosos
manos llenas, capullos de esperanza
pero huraño
lejos de mi alcance
se queda
Pulmones sin aire se arrastran
por las horas de polvo seco
Trato de acurrucarlo
acercarlo hacia mí
pero esos ojos dorados de coyote
relampaguean su indomable distancia
Oye, tímido,
te prometo respirar quedito
mis manos tranquilas como piedras,
coyotito,
mi rebozo tan silencioso
como el susurro del desierto
Te prometo voltear la cabeza
no levantar la mirada
si tan solo te acercaras
y te dejaras
tocar
La Espera (Oil on canvas)
"Interminable waits create their own emotions. This is a painting of paralelismo between the patient waiting for the birth of a child and the mother waiting for the birth of a child." — C.G.
To Juan
When the Revolution came
my world didn't fall apart
My world doesn't fall apart for
a revolution
You
are my revolution, Juan
When I left home
my world didn't fall apart
because we make a home anywhere, Juan,
in the open air, under this roof of stars
I can make do
with almost nothing
My rebozo - a bed
My breast - your pillow
I have corn to make you tortillas
and even a little bag of sávila
and hierbitas to heal your wounds
I don't need much
Just one
thing
Don't you die on me, Juan,
because then
my world
would
come apart
Even now
I feel the walls
caving in on me
coming down on me
crumbling
collapsing
in this house we've made
of sky, of blood,
of Revolución.
A mi Juan
Cuando vino la Revolución
no se me cayó'l mundo
Mi mundo no se cae por revolución
Mi revolución eres tú
Cuando me fuí de la casa
no se me cayó'l mundo
Qui'al cabo aquí hacemos casa, Juan
a pleno cielo raso
Aquí traigo mi petate
mi metate
y el perico
Aquí te tengo tus tortillas
Aquí en mi pecho tu almohada
Hasta la sávila en el morral, pa' las heridas
No nec'ito mucho yo
Nomás
No te me mueras, Juan
qui'a'i sí se me cae el mundo
Ahora mesmo
Se me están derrumbando las paderes
de esta casa hecha de cielo, sangre,
y Revolución.
Soldadera: Homenaje a Casasola (Oil on canvas)
An homage to one of Agustín Victor Casasola's many iconic photographs of soldaderas, women who joined the Mexican Revolution on the battlefronts. Gárate states, "For me, Casasola's foto represents the epitome of the soldadera's participation in the Revolution. But while her face, even with its anguish and anxiety, is beautiful, my soldadera is horrorosa, the other side of the coin, with all the loyalty of a chaotic, embattled and bloody time, which she did not understand but whose walls she felt collapsing in on her." The title of the Spanish poem here "A Mi Juan" reflects the revolutionary corrido, "La Rielera".
Clearing the Path
All You Hulking Bad Spirits
Go Away
All You Icy Black Shadows
Go Away
YOU and YOU and YOU, Evil Winds
Go Away
Make Way
The tender body
of one of our own
is coming Home
Sweet Sunshine
Warm the earth to hold him
Cool Rain of morning
Wet his tongue
Blessed Smoke of mesquite and copal
Clear him a Path
The tender body
of one of our own
is coming Home
Fire
Burn all that is evil
Smoke
Cleanse all that is soiled
Souls
Kiss the eyelids of the cold one
For the tender body
of one of our own
One most loved
is coming home
One most loved
is coming
Home
Limpiando el Camino
Aléjate, espíritu malo
Aléjate, obscuridad
Aléjate, aire de maldad
que regresa a casa
el cuerpo de uno
de los nuestros
Hazle lugar
sol que calientas la tierra
Refresca su lengua
lluvia fresca de la mañana
Límpiale el camino
humo bendito, copal oloroso
que regresa a casa
el cuerpo de uno
de los nuestros
Quema, fuego
todo lo sucio
Limpia, humo
todo lo feo
Besa, alma
los ojos del frío
que regresa a casa
el cuerpo
del más querido
el cuerpo
del más
querido
Limpiando el Sendero (Oil on canvas)
"In many rural areas, indigenous customs call for clearing the path of bad spirits with incense and copal smoke, especially in the face of difficulties or death. At one small pueblo several coffins arrived of indocumentados, young boys from Michoacan whom La Migra had tried to arrest. The driver had driven off in a panic, striking and killing them. The people were walking beside the coffins of these boys, and way ahead of them, all alone, was an elderly woman chanting prayers and spreading incense to clean the path." — C. G.
Brown Seed
Sweet soft furrow of earthen power
crumbling with readiness, home of hope
nest as warm as sun's caress
Take this gift I toss you now
of prayered, well-saved brown seed
brown as you, brown as my calloused feet
that feel your promise like a kiss
a whisper that your patient breast
will feed this seed and feed me too
Perhaps I might then feed
another tiny seed
one whose eyes will open fresh
and earth-nest brown
the color of
my love
Color Café
color café esta semilla
que arrojo a la tierna tierra arada
color café la tierra
que lo abraza pa' que crezca
color café mis pies
que van por esta senda
de esperanzas
dando vida
tierra a semilla
semilla a mí
y yo —
a otra semillita
muy chiquita
que entre meses nacerá
abriendo ojos
que también serán
color café
La Siembra (Oil on canvas)
"The connectedness of the earth, of her feet, of the seed she plants ... " — C.G.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Rebozos by Carmen Tafolla. Copyright © 2012 Wings Press. Excerpted by permission of Wings Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Contents
A Poet's Introduction / Introducción poética,Mujeres del Rebozo Rojo / Las Mujeres del rebozo rojo,
They Call Me Soledad / Me Llamo Soledad,
La Witch / La Bruja,
Waiting / La Espera,
To Juan / A mi Juan,
Clearing the Path / Limpiando el Camino,
Brown Seed / Color Café,
Deep Inside the Storm / Muy Dentro de la Tempestad,
Curandera, Your Voice / Tu Voz, Curandera,
Hidden Coves / Introspección,
These Tacos / Los Taquitos que Traigo,
The Other Side of Tired / Al Otro Lado del Cansancio,
Longing / Añoranza,
Going with You / Hasta la Tumba,
Offering to the Dead / Ofrenda,
You Can Tell We're Related / Se Nos Nota que Somos Parientes,
Artists' Statements,
Afterword: The Rebozo as Cultural Icon by Hector García Manzanedo, Ph.D.,