A Poetics of Incantation by Denise Low-Weso
Sky, water, jade
forests, sun—these are the palettes used by Xánath Caraza in her new book Perchada
estás/Perching (Mouthfeel Press 2021). She creates poems that are
paintings—until they start to move and rise into the heavens. Three sections of
the book move from element to birds to language: “Agua/Water,”
“Colibrí/Hummingbird,” and “Sílabas/Syllables.”
One of the perfect
poems is “Primavera / Spring”:
El vieto ruge
entre las hojas.
Calla tu nombre,
sella mi boca.
La inunda de tibia agua,
anuncia la
primavera. (44)
The wind roars
between the
leaves.
It silences your
name,
seals my mouth.
Fills it with warm
water,
announces the
arrival of spring. (45)
The connection of breath and wind, words
and the human body are implicit in this gust of a poem—apparently simple yet
rich with implications and undertones. Caraza is a musician, as she
orchestrates tones and rhythms in the couplets. Slant end rhymes enliven the
Spanish—“ruge” paired with “hojas,” “nombre” with “boca,” and “agua” with
“primavera.” In both Spanish and
English, the parallel phrasings are incantatory.
She is a painter
as she arranges colors and perspectives. She is a shaman as she connects human
will to the powers of nature. Caraza sweeps her audience along with her as she
invokes the heavens and hidden secrets of the Earth. Her poem “Secreto/Secret”
opens the book, and its first lines assert the primary theme: “Primero fuimos
agua/que fluía en las cavernas/más oscuras en silencio”; “First we were water
/which flowed in silence /in the darkest caverns” (11-12). The pathways of
underground water are secret and essential to the network of life. The water can
be amniotic fluid; it can be the first waters of creation; it can be the
nearest seashore waves. The poem proceeds to illuminate states of water, from “remolino/whirlpool”
to “giro acuático en la roca/swirl on the rock” to “vapor ardiente/scalding
vapor.” The poem is not overtly political, but it underscores the importance of
clean, potable water for a planet of finite resources. It celebrates the
discrete spirit of water.
Caraza’s poetry
examines the body in relationship to the surrounding natural and human-made
environments. The poem “El reflejo de la luz /The Reflections of Light” ends
with these stanzas:
La cola de la ballena
nace de la profundidad.
Sella mis ojos con sal,
los pulmones explotan.
Luz de luna en la piel. (31)
...The flukes of
the whale
surface from the
depths.
Seal my eyes with
salt,
My lungs explode.
Moonlight on the
skin. (33)
The whale’s tail, with its individual identifying
marks, coexists with the narrator’s eyes, lungs, and skin—which identify the
person. Moonlight and sea depths define the world’s dimensions for both the
whale and the human. Numerous references to nature in the poems are linked
closely to the person who narrates the poems, through language on the page and
through her body. Many references to la poesía/poetry are in these pages, and
they are essential to understanding the direction of the poet’s thought. Wind
takes form in hurricanes, storms, and breezes, and it connects to persons
through poetic declarations, whether an individual is formally a poet or not.
Caraza’s
body of work emphasizes the power of nature’s elements and its
denizens—animals, human, even the vibrant jungle plants that have visible life
force. Her first full-length book Conjuro (Mammoth Publications 2012)
declaims her intention of casting spells with her words. She ends this book
with the poem “Vagones/Train Cars,” and states, “Viento, sopla y esparce / mis
palabras, / enrédate conmigo”; “Wind, blow and spread/ my words,/ entangle
yourself with me” (98-99). The poet commands the wind to comingle with the
narrator’s physical and spiritual selves.
Caraza is one of
the strongest oral readers I have ever seen. Even on the printed page, her
power comes alive. This is an uplifting book that replaces fear with strength
and doubt with an unwavering vision of the cosmos. This is much needed hope in
our times.
—Denise Low-Weso,
former Poet Laureate of Kansas
Perchada
estás / Perching (Mouthfeel
Press 2021)
by Xánath
Caraza. Translated by Sandra Kingery.
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