The Question Everyone's Asking

Melinda Palacio, Santa Barbara Poet Laureate 2023-2025

There’s a question on everybone’s mind. If you follow this column, you’re probably curious about the answer too. Now that my two-year term as City of Santa Barbara Poet Laureate is over, it seems everyone I encounter wants to know how I feel. Most people who ask this question assume that my schedule over the past two year has been a burden. However, the truth is enjoyed every minute. I didn’t have a poetry boss forcing me to present my work or to bring poetry to different community spaces. Those were goals that I set for myself. I realize I was in a unique position, having received a post-pandemic laureateship, at a time when the world was opening up and recovering from our pandemic lockdown. My predecessor, Emma Trelles, SB PL Number 9, didn’t get a chance to receive all the pomp and circumstance of being crowned Poet Laureate at our city hall or have a gathering of friends and supporters after. I was lucky to have had friends attend my ceremony from as far south as Ventura, Oxnard, Los Angeles, Pasadena, and Tia Juana. After the City Hall ceremony and photos, everyone walked to the Santa Barbara Historical Museum where there was a cake and champagne. 

 

It was such an honor and continues to be so. I was more than happy to be the public face of poetry, a poetry ambassador and teacher for the community and beyond. I am also humbled and honored that the Association of Women in Communications is honoring the work that I did as Poet Laureate in naming me one of five Women of Achievement in their 17th annual Women of Achievement Awards. The theme for this year’s awards is Creative Communication: Building Community Through Arts. Honorees include Adriana Arriaga, visual artist known at adriana la artista, entrepreneur and activist; Teresa Kuskey, Founder/Artistic Director of La Boheme Dance; Frances Moore, Co-founder/Artistic Director, Santa Barbara Ringhout Project; Melinda Palacio, and JoAnne Wasserman, Artistic Director and Conductor, Santa Barbara Choral Society. 

 

La Santa Cecilia

 I cannot deny being a little relieved that I will be able to slow down and take a little break from the whirlwind poetry tour that’s been the past two years. One of the things I had a chance to enjoy again was the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival or Jazz Fest. Jazz Fest takes place during the last week of April and the first week of May from Thursday-Sunday. Don’t let the term jazz fool you, there’s a large variety of music, something for everyone. The highlight for me this year was La Santa Cecilia. I saw her band over fifteen years ago at Tía Chucha's Words and Music Festival in Pacoima, well before they became internationally acclaimed grammy winners. La Santa Cecilia was recently in Santa Barbara as part of the Viva Artes program but it was fun seeing the band in New Orleans with the smells of Crawfish Monica and Oyster Poboys wafting through the air. 

 

In poetry news, I have a new collection I am working on and I am also aligning the stars to bring the Somos Xicanas anthology to Santa Barbara. This anthology, published by the independent press, Riot of Roses, features poetry from over 80 Xicana writers. Some names you might recognize and others will prove to be new gems you’ll want to explore further. The collection as a whole has been in the works for a long time and has endured multiple editors and survived changing publishing houses. I am honored to be included. I had the pleasure of reading with several contributors in March at La Plaza Cultural in downtown Los Angeles. I look forward to bringing this important anthology to Santa Barbara this Fall.

*an earlier version of this column appears in the Santa Barbara Independent

“Serpiente de primavera” por Xánath Caraza

“Serpiente de primavera” por Xánath Caraza

 

Soy hija de la luz con lágrimas de luciérnagas verdiazules en las mejillas. La espuma de mar sigue mis pasos en la playa, los borra, no deja huella, quiere esconderlos en sus entrañas. El mar me satura de diminutos caracoles y azules cangrejos, pero mi cuerpo engaña a la espuma y los deja deslizarse lentamente por cada centímetro de mi bronceada piel, dejando un haz de criaturas marinas sobre la arena. Soy hija de la luz y del canto de las aves en la húmeda selva. Llevo la esencia de las flores en el corazón. El canto del cenzontle late en mi vientre, se mezcla con las citlalis en el cielo de la noche. Soy hija de las lenguas perdidas, de los fonemas ocultos en la garganta de la selva. No hay caminos que no escuchen mis pasos y en los senderos que aún no he llegado, ya se presienten mis versos. Palabras encadenadas con sílabas de huehuetl. Soy hija de los latidos de congas y teponaxtlis, hija de la luz con el canto del cenzontle atravesado en el pecho. El mar azul me persigue los pasos cada día. Las resplandecientes luciérnagas ya han tatuado sus poemas en mi piel. Mi padre es el tornado que se mezcla con la ensortijada serpiente turquesa de primavera.

 

Serpent of Spring

 

I am a daughter of the light with tears of blue-green fireflies on my cheeks. Sea foam follows my steps on the beach, erases them, leaves no trace, attempts to hide them in its bowels. The sea soaks me with diminutive snails and blue crabs, but my body fools the foam and leaves them slipping slowly along every inch of my bronze skin, leaving a mound of marine creatures on the sand. I am a daughter of the light and of the song of the birds in the damp jungle. I carry the essence of flowers in my heart. The song of the cenzontle beats in my belly, it mixes with the citlalis in the night sky. I am a daughter of the languages lost in the tones hidden in the throat of the jungle. There are no paths that do not hear my steps, and on trails where I have yet to appear, premonitions of my verses hold sway. Words link to syllables of huehuetl. I am a daughter of the beating of congas and teponaxtlis, daughter of the light with the song of the cenzontle falling across my chest. The blue sea pursues my steps every day. Brilliant fireflies have already tattooed their poems on my skin. My father is the tornado and mingles with the plumed turquoise serpent of spring.

 

Koatl Xochitlipoal

 

Najaya ikonej tlauili ika ichokilis tlen xoxokazultik kokimej ipan xayaknejchikilis.  Iposontli ueyi atl ki tokilia no nejnemilistli ipan ueyiatentli, kipoliltia, axtlen mokaua, ki neki ipan ijtiko kintlatis.  Ueyi atl nech temitia ika pilkuetlaxkomej uan kin kauilia tlajmatsi ma mo alaxokaj ipan no tlatlatok kuetlaxkoli, kajkaua se tsontli pilatltekuanimej ipan xali.  Najaya ikonej tlauili uan iuikalis totomej ipan xolontok kuatitlamik.  Ipan no yolo niuika iauiyalis totomej ipan xolontok kuatitlamik.  Ipan no yolo niuika iauiyalis xochimej.  Iuikalis setsontlitototl uitoni ipan no ijtiko, momaneloa ika youalsitlalimej tlen ijluikatl.  Najaya ikone tlajtolmej tlen polijkenjinin kakilis ipan ikecholoyo kuatitlamitl.  Ax onkaj ojtli tlen ax ki kakij no nemilis uan kampa ayi ni nejnentok, mo machiliaya nouikalis.  Tlajtolsasali ika piltlatolmej tlen ueuetl.  Najaya ikonej iuitontli tlatejtsontli uan teponaxtli, taluili ikonej ika stsontlitototl ipan no yolixpa.  Asultikueyiatl nech tokilia mojmostla.  Petlani kokimej kitlatskiltijkejya inin xochitlajtol ipan no kuetlaxkotl.  No tata ejekatl tlen momaneloa ika ilaktskoatl xoxoktik xochitlipoal.

 

Serpente di primavera

 

Sono figlia della luce con lacrime di lucciole verdiazzurre sulle guance. La schiuma del mare segue i miei passi sulla spiaggia, li cancella, non lascia tracce, vuole nasconderli dentro di sé. Il mare mi riempie di minuscole lumachine e granchietti blu, ma il mio corpo inganna la schiuma e li lascia scivolare lentamente lungo ogni centimetro della mia pelle di bronzo, lasciando sulla spiaggia una scia di creature marine. Sono figlia della luce e del canto degli uccelli nella selva umida. Porto nel cuore l’essenza dei fiori. Il canto del cenzontle pulsa dentro di me, mescolandosi con le citlalis nel cielo della notte. Sono figlia di lingue dimenticate, di fonemi nascosti nella gola della selva. Non ci sono sentieri che non ascoltino i miei passi e sui lidi in cui ancora non sono arrivata, si presagiscono già i miei versi. Parole incatenate con sillabe di huehuetl. Sono figlia dei battiti di tamburi e teponaxtlis, figlia della luce, e il canto del cenzontle mi attraversa il petto. Il mare azzurro segue i miei passi ogni giorno. Lucciole splendenti hanno già tatuato le loro poesie sulla mia pelle. Mio padre è il tornado che si fonde con il serpente piumato turchese della primavera.

 

 

“Serpiente de primavera” está incluido en la Antología Somos Xicanas. Poema original en español de Xánath Caraza. Traducción al inglés de Sandra Kingery. Traducción al náhuatl de Tirso Bautista Cárdenas. Traducción al italiano de Zingonia Zingone y Annelisa Addolorato. Imagen de Adriana Manuela. “Serpiente de primavera” fue nominado por la Casa Editorial Riot of Roses para los Pushcart Awards de 2024.