Contemporary World Literature Poems from Mexico
By Melissa del Mar
Melissa del Mar studies Communication and Digital Media at the Tecnológico de Monterrey, and has a diploma in Mexican Literatures in Indigenous Languages (2019) from the National Institute of Fine Arts and Literature. She is the winner of the Woman Tec Award (2021), in the category of Art and Cultural Management awarded by the Center for the Recognition of Human Dignity of Tecnológico de Monterrey.
She is head of the Coordination for the Recognition and Promotion of Women’s Rights of the International Foundation of Art and Culture, head of Communication and Dissemination of Cardenal, Revista Literaria, Director of Art and Culture of PICO Informativo, columnist at Proyecto Ululayu, co-founder of the workshop All Names I Am of feminist creative writing, and co-founder of the podcast (In) visibles.
Melissa del Mar has been published in digital and print spaces such as Buenos Aires Poetry, New York Poetry Review, CONECTA, Reforma, El Universal, Milenio, MásCultura de Librerías Gandhi and has performed at TEDx, Feria Internacional del Libro, Festival Mesoamericano de Poesía, Encuentro Nacional de Mujeres Poetas Jóvenes, among others. She is part of the anthology Novísimas Reunión de poetas mexicanas (1989-1999). Her poetic work has been presented in Mexico, Argentina, Belgium, Bolivia, Chile, Colombia, Costa Rica, Italy, Peru, Spain, and The United States.
Nahuales’ Sunset
I see you
In Tonanxochilco
Womb that bore our daughters out of nostalgia
In the distance of the dust that rises
Like wanting me to remember!
Where the ahuehuete leaves fade
There your echo, which like a tide spreads until diluted,
Is a silent red-breasted omen
Indicating your nocturnal return!
I remember your voyage, that so many ignore,
The one printed on stone, waiting to hug your flat hill,
Canicula
In the navel that saw
The sun being born!
Sour land, cracked
That cries out to be recognized,
Like all the deaths, still nameless
Between rocks and cliffs,
That today receives the legacy of a title
That everyone knows other, where
You still are.
I feel you
In the wood that stands
In fumaroles that imitate wandering souls
Of this land that is of transit,
Seeds that
Dry rage; in your guts
That are being cooked
And among the desert that I find pirul,
I see you in shadows as you walk through the roots,
Just as you were,
When you left!
Cuauhxochitl, sweet tangled in your hair
Preserved as the thorns that today I remove from your green forehead
Filled with a fruit that is conceived red, protected.
And you fade into flavors
Those of this dark mount crowned with symbols we don´t own,
On nights of heaven pillars of lime,
That spices you up, sweeten and make you bitter.
That is enough for knowing you are alive,
Knowing you are tonal languages,
Knowing you are other languages,
Knowing mother tongues,
Knowing your own tongue,
Knowing each other without words
Knowing pain,
Knowing hurt,
Knowing that,
Like you.
I am still alive.
I taste you
Mystical earth, I smell on your tanned vanilla and dry sand skin
The collapse of sweat and breath!
I believe in you and what your mouth (that will not ever be mine)
Preaches with words that
Through the passing of the day,
Will leave the body to stand free when falling!
With your hand that reaches out to mine,
As it always did,
To request,
To give,
You perfume the hours when they try to forget you,
And you get in,
You dominate,
You wonder,
You dance to the moon, which will soon
Be reflected in lakes of dark blood,
And you’ll find, in the stench of dead flowers
Like your sad sisters,
The strength to remain standing,
Like you still are!
I breathe you
When tears come out of rocks and the
Howling drum whispers,
Naming you, panting between whistles
And I know every blow, as a tide,
A voice
Your voice
Like a surge that returns.
Every vibration, trembling like
The back of a grievance soon to be born, calls you.
The leaves speak in a language that tastes like secret rain
And between murmurs of indigo dye
A melody that
Only the sea sings,
The ground kisses the bare foot
That prays in tongues that only in the wind are written.
And now that I touch you,
I feel you walking paths in my hands
While continuing your journey stepping between salt water plateaus,
A home that quietly flows
Draining back to the caves where they belong,
Where waiting for all your daughters,
That someone else found along the way,
You still are.
I hear you
And the afternoon already has the eyes of all the mothers
Who only see haze in the day
When people start to forget,
A day scorched between lights that no longer grow,
A day
Another day
Without knowing how to put a face to the broken bodies,
To your and my bodies,
To everyone’s,
Penetrated until they catch fire
In the ovens of the wasteland,
Until they dissolve into ashes.
They,
Those I cannot name, because there is no longer a face on their bodies,
Wait like Nahuales until it gets dark
To greet those who stand by,
Those who keep looking,
Those whom despite knowing them dead,
Buried,
Missing,
Between sunsets
Believe you are alive.
Because you still are.
Today, as then
Bindweed of water, inhabited by the spiral
Of the sea and the shadow, fertile land
Your mouth is,
Where words are born again!
We dream of ourselves as plants
To understand the words
That the grass emanates
When we hear it!
The stems that the dawn brings,
Burst from you
And they unite us all like your daughters,
Twinning each bud
Bulb, field,
Seed!
We germinate from the root of the tule
And we cross branches
To heal our inheritances
Herbs, wounds, and
Today, as then,
We name ourselves as one
Facing the death that plagues us!
We are the foundational verb
In your language that is the placenta.
Fruitful maple oil you emanate,
To give us life, wind
Word of your womb!
We will walk birch trails
To reach the threshold that dwells us,
And so enraptured,
We will plant your memories
And cover them with moss,
To avoid that,
Today, as then,
They all get trampled.
We recognize each other in your milk tongue,
That also is
Countryside, where
Despite the death inhabited in your substrates,
We will learn to sing other
Melodies which are not just to
Accompany sorrow.
I thank the nectar that runs out from your hand,
Like lichens of warm honey,
Threads of light,
From which you nourish the mouth of stone.
You slow down, spike, in the wheat field of your verse,
The raving of life that passes by, and
Today, as then,
Your strands weave us past, present.
And so, we are one in the dust that reminds us,
We are all
On the griddle that reinvents who we are.
And if they intend to bury our branches,
Snake-like steam will come out of our oaks
To say, never again in silence, that
Today, as then,
We will continue to sprout.
And if burning us in bonfires they seek,
We will burn in flames that paint the sky,
To remind you that our fire cannot be put out with water, and
Today, as then,
We will resist.
And if they want to tear another of us off the ground,
We will use as rain the crying of women that have been taken away from us,
In graveyards, we will sow in their memory jacarandas and
Today, as then,
Each time stronger,
We will be born again.
_____________________