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Your Heart, My Sky

Page 6

by Margarita Engle


  to think and speak

  independently?

  All I know

  is that holding hands

  means more to me right now

  than clinging desperately

  to my own

  opinions.

  Strange Sights in the Countryside

  Liana

  On the way to bring meat to Amado’s abuelos

  we see so many foreigners that we know

  the international games must be ready

  to spill beyond Havana, bringing sports

  of every sort

  to the countryside.

  Runners, bicyclists,

  even birdwatchers

  with binoculars!

  The tourists seem to arrive as if by sorcery,

  carried in old cars that are suddenly

  being used as taxis, or hitchhiking,

  expecting mercy just because

  the sun is hot

  and the wait

  is long.

  Delay

  Liana and Amado

  The old folks convince us

  to keep any food we grow

  for ourselves

  and our families.

  No restaurant.

  No fantasies.

  Not now.

  Maybe soon,

  after the presence of outsiders

  forces our government

  to change.

  Souvenirs for the Future

  Liana

  Instead of trying to sell food to tourists

  I watch them, study their fascination

  with flotsam and jetsam

  on beaches,

  and then I begin to create objects

  that will keep forever

  so that whenever the laws

  are altered

  I’ll be ready

  with sea glass jewelry

  to remind travelers

  of glittering sand,

  and driftwood carved into dolls

  decorated with shells, coral, pebbles,

  all sorts of gifts from nature

  turned into curiosities

  for people so wealthy

  that all they want to collect

  is pleasant memories.

  The Gardener’s Heart

  Amado

  Paz has taught me

  that memory is a library

  of scents and flavors, while fear

  is a warehouse of hungers,

  so I try to show an interest

  in Liana’s whimsical effort to imagine

  a future of creative opportunities,

  but all I really trust

  is my own two hands

  in deep soil

  pulling weeds

  and feeding roots

  with a shower

  of generous

  sweat.

  Separate Hands

  Liana

  He gardens.

  I make hidden treasures.

  Together, we experiment

  with independence.

  A Message from Prison

  Amado

  Feeling stranded

  even though I’m on shore,

  I finally discover a smuggled note

  from my brother, just as the secret agents

  hinted.

  The scrap of paper is on my bed.

  Have those policemen entered our house?

  I can’t ask my parents, because what if

  they will be safer not knowing anything

  about Generoso.…

  My brother’s name is even more archaic

  than mine, as if our wistful mother believed

  that she could make the future gentle

  by ignoring

  harsh centuries.

  Stay or leave, Generoso’s note advises.

  Stay or leave, but don’t come

  HERE.

  Shocked by the recognition of his handwriting,

  it’s easy for me to see that HERE must mean prison.

  All I can glean of his meaning is permission to abandon

  our pact, forsake pacifism, stay home and join the military

  like I’m supposed to, or flee to some other land

  where violence

  is voluntary.

  Florida is where most rafters end up,

  but there’s no nation more warlike

  than the United States.

  Seeing such a cryptic message

  makes me feel submerged,

  as if I’ve already fallen off a boat

  and I’m drifting

  downward,

  drowning.

  Full Belly, Anxious Mind

  Liana

  When all the pork is gone

  Amado gives me a tomato

  as red and ripe as a sunrise,

  sliced and shared.

  With the global games about to begin

  and our gardens growing, and my ideas

  flowing, I still feel uncertain, even when my hand

  strokes Amado’s familiar fingers.

  How can love

  be enough

  in a time

  of hunger?

  I’m full now, but by tomorrow, once again

  we’ll be scrounging.

  Dilemma

  Amado

  Stay home or go?

  Remain and let the army change my nature

  or float away on a raft to some other country

  where I’ll always

  be a stranger?

  Such a decision can’t be made alone.

  First I need to know if Liana

  and love

  and Paz

  will go

  with me.

  Never

  The singing dog

  Sometimes the dog understands

  human questions.

  Is he willing to flee across the sea?

  His answer is a howl, not a song,

  no rhythm, rhyme, or melody,

  just the anguish of centuries suffered.

  Stay, humans, stay and share

  the mystery of a future

  that can only be imagined,

  guided, and persuaded,

  never

  completely

  controlled.

  Building Hope

  Amado

  It’s silly to ask a dog questions, he doesn’t

  understand me, and he can’t answer, so I begin

  to gather bits of wood and string that might

  be useful when I construct

  our raft.

  Is Growth Always So Slow?

  Liana

  When the games are finally about to begin,

  my brothers and all our school friends

  return from el campo, wiry and muscular

  with sun-roasted skin

  and ravenous eyes.

  How different life would be if we could all

  just roll across the soil like clouds, moving

  the way oxen do, ponderously, with gentle gazes

  as deep

  and dark

  as friendship.

  Instead, here I am, with a garden that is still

  mostly daydreams, waiting for edible

  reality.

  Ode to Soup

  Amado

  My mother waited all day in a ration line

  until she finally received enough black beans

  for sopa, the dark liquid thick and salty, brimming

  with green onions that I planted and harvested,

  the act of gardening so rewarding

  that I feel comforted

  from within, as if grains of soil

  gathered beneath my fingernails

  have a will, choosing

  to soothe me.

  Rootlets of thought

  swirl like soup.

  Hot.

  Thick.

  Nourishing.

  It’s the closest I’ve felt to my family

  in a long time, the simple act of sharing food
/>   a natural way to remember

  relationships.

  Overwhelmed

  Liana

  Truth strikes abruptly.

  My brothers are twins, both sixteen.

  Soon they’ll have to join the army or refuse

  and be punished, just like Amado’s brother.

  Soon Amado will have to make

  the same terrible choice.

  I’ve been pushing the thought away

  for months, but now it sweeps across me

  like a tsunami.

  The future seems so twisted,

  in their place, I would be furious.

  What if they—and Amado—all go to prison,

  will I even be permitted

  to visit?

  The Stadium of Starvation

  Amado

  Opening ceremony,

  a televised frenzy,

  plenty of electricity today,

  so that everyone can witness

  the irony.

  Government funds were spent to construct

  all those new sports facilities in the city,

  but it’s money that could have been used

  to import protein

  for millions

  of hungry

  citizens.

  Old folks like Abuela wouldn’t be diabetic

  and nearly blind, if humans were valued

  as much as publicity.

  Storm Surge

  Liana

  My brothers immediately understand what I’m doing,

  there’s no way to hide all the black market deals

  I conduct by trading things I find in the caves

  for supplies to help rafters.

  My life of secrecy suddenly feels like a storm surge

  during a hurricane, swooping closer and closer,

  pulled

  by whirling winds

  that rise

  from the heated

  sea.

  For so long, all I’ve cared about was Amado and Paz,

  but now my own family seems real again too,

  hungry, needy, close,

  desperate.

  New Rules

  Amado

  As we watch the games, I hear official announcements,

  learning that laws are suddenly changing, perhaps just

  to impress visiting foreign heads of state

  with a flurry of new freedoms for Cubans.

  Churches are opened after decades of being shuttered.

  Overnight, possession of a Bible becomes legal

  and prayer

  is no longer forbidden.

  What will be next?

  Permission to buy, sell, cook, eat?

  Imagine how wondrous it will be

  if Liana can open her daydreamed restaurant

  and I am able to grow all the food we need

  freely.

  Boatless

  Amado

  The next time I go to the beach, I compare

  our shore to other lands shown on television

  whenever an athlete is introduced—distant places

  with coastlines where fishing boats and freight ships

  luxuriate like dolphins or whales, festive

  and immense, gliding swiftly across

  a peaceful sea.

  We have hardly any boats at all.

  It’s our government’s way of making sure

  that no one tries to leave, not even when we’re

  starving, so we’re captives, prisoners of hunger.

  Some of the rules might be changing, but unless

  they’re altered swiftly, we’ll be an island

  of skeletons.

  Tonight I’ll find Liana,

  I need to talk to her before it’s too late

  for words.

  How?

  Amado

  no way to begin

  so I wait for slow movement

  my voice masked by smiles

  Division

  Amado Liana

  I miss you

  when we’re distant

  we need to share

  feathers wings

  words

  air

  Unity

  Liana and Amado

  Our

  hearts

  know

  how

  to

  soar

  toward

  each

  other

  this

  turbulent

  kiss

  somehow

  peaceful.

  Refuge

  Amado and Liana

  Barracuda,

  red snapper,

  angelfish,

  it’s all the same

  as long as we’re fishing together

  in a hidden cove, or trading together

  in an alley at night, or cooking

  together, in the cave’s

  farthest chambers,

  surrounded

  by possibilities…

  but Amado says he needs to ask me

  something important, and I’m afraid I know

  what it will be, so I fall silent

  avoiding

  disagreements.

  Visible Thoughts

  The singing dog

  The troubled dog watches as the boy

  builds a raft in his mind

  and the girl avoids seeing the drift

  of complicated objects

  that will soon be wrapped around her future,

  each strand of salvaged rope

  or splintered boards

  one more

  disappointment.

  They’ll leave him, won’t they?

  Should he abandon them first,

  to make the flow

  of human disloyalty

  less painful?

  Pain Relief

  Liana

  Amado, Paz, and I are still a team, bartering

  and bargaining—but the dog seems restless,

  Amado is evasive, and black markets are fickle

  while ration booklets are tricky, since shoes,

  cloth, needles, thread, and bed sheets all require

  the same numbered ticket, so that in reality

  only one

  of those necessities

  can be obtained

  by each person

  each year.

  Aspirin, underwear, soap, shampoo,

  paper, pencils, toilet paper—none of it exists,

  the shelves of ration outlets are almost empty,

  so when my mother awakens with a migraine,

  all she can do is chew willow bark

  and plaster fragrant sage leaves

  onto her forehead, returning

  to the remedies of ancient times.

  She’ll stay home from work today,

  and I’ll have no way to do any of my usual

  exploration, I’ll have to stay home

  and take care of her, offering

  the same comfort she always gives me

  when I’m sick.

  I realize

  that this is what life will be like

  in a few weeks

  when Amado and I have to go back

  to school,

  and there will never

  be

  any privacy.

  He keeps saying he needs to talk to me

  about something urgent, but each time

  I ask him to explain, he grows moody

  and remote,

  making me feel

  so alone.

  The Language of Wishes

  The singing dog

  The dog knows how uncertain the future can feel

  while it still drifts a few minutes or centuries away,

  so he tries to convey his canine sense of time

  as a circle instead of a line, but his human friends

  understand so little of his melodious voice

  that he ends up guiding them with longing

  instead
of sounds.

  Surely they will sense his need for complete

  devotion, the kind that never doubts itself

  even for a moment, because life spans

  in the mind of a short-lived creature

  are endlessly

  fragrant.

  Why?

  Amado

  My parents ask why I’m so gloomy,

  a neighbor asks why I’ve gained weight,

  a tourist asks why I’m so skinny,

  a policeman asks why I’m evasive,

  Liana asks why I won’t just say

  whatever it is that I’ve described

  as terribly urgent.

  Hunger separates people.

  Fear does the same.

  I’m afraid to share

  my secret plan.

  A raft.

  The sea.

  Escape.

  What if Liana refuses to go with me?

  What if refusing might save her life?

  Can I imagine a future

  alone?

  ¿Por qué?

  Hunger Separates Siblings

  Liana

  I’m furious with Amado for failing

  to trust me. Why does he keep secrets

  when I’m more than willing to share

  any burden?

  Why?

  After a summer of avoiding my parents

  to prevent them from keeping track

  of my movements, there’s a part of me

  that’s so happy to see my brothers

  at last.

  We used to be close.

  Now we’re remote.

  Why do they whisper,

  sketch tracks in beach sand,

  study the glaring horizon

  of sunlight

  and heat?

  Time Travel

  Amado

  While Liana stares at her brothers,

  I chat with old friends, then casually

  wander the roadsides,

  intent on convincing

  the secret police

  that nothing has changed,

  no message was received,

  no scribbled note

  from prison.

  A herd of bony white cows

  is guarded by young men and women

  in military uniforms, bodies twig-shaped,

  faces haggard, eyes resentful.

  Will that be me if I stay on the island,

  just a soldier assigned to tend cattle

 

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