Today is the antepenultimate day of the progressive poem. I learned antepenultimate 2 Summers ago when I was reading Benjamin Dreyer's amazing book, Dreyer's English. Antepenultimate means third from last.
Before I continue I want to advise that I made 2 changes to today's post. The first is that I started all lines with a Capital letter. Whoever comes behind me can certainly copy and paste from yesterdays post rather than mine. The second is that I have changed the links, so now when you click on the previous poets pages you go directly to their original post.
Cradled in stars, our planet sleeps,
Clinging to tender dreams of peace
Sister moon watches from afar,
Singing lunar lullabies of hope.
Almost dawn, I walk with others,
Keeping close, my little brother.
Hand in hand, we carry courage
escaping closer to the border
My feet are lightning;
My heart is thunder.
Our pace draws us closer
To a new land of wonder.
I bristle against rough brush—
Poppies ahead brighten the browns.
Morning light won’t stay away—
Hearts jump at every sound.
I hum my own little song
Like ripples in a stream
Humming Mami’s lullaby
Reminds me I have her letter
My fingers linger on well-worn creases,
Shielding an address, a name, a promise–
Sister Moon will find always us
Surrounding us with beams of kindness
But last night as we rested in the dusty field,
Worries crept in about matters back home.
I huddled close to my brother. Tears revealed
The no-choice need to escape. I feel grown.
Leaving all I’ve ever known
The tender, heavy, harsh of home.
On to maybes, on to dreams,
On to whispers we hope could be.
But I don’t want to whisper! I squeeze Manu’s hand.
“¡Más cerca ahora!” Our feet pound the sand.
We race, we pant, we lean on each other
I open my canteen and drink gratefully
Thirst is slaked, but I know we’ll need
More than water to achieve our dreams.
Nights pass slowly, but days call for speed
Through the highs and the lows, we live with extremes
We enter a village the one from Mami’s letter,
We find the steeple; food, kindly people, and shelter.
“We made it, Manu! Mami would be so proud!”
I choke back a sob, then stand tall for the crowd.
A slapping of sandals… I wake to the sound
Of ¡GOL! Manu’s playing! The fútbol rebounds.
I pinch myself. Can this be true?
Are we safe at last? Is our journey through?
I savor this safety, we’re enveloped with care,
but Tío across the border, still seems far as stars.
He could not yet come to this new place
But Hermana moon, kiss his tear-stained face
¿Dónde está mi querido Tío? (Where is my Dear Uncle?
)¡Mi corazón está muy frío! (My heart is very cold)
I originally wrote this in Spanish. I then translated it into English by myself and used an online translator back to Spanish to correct any grammatical errors I may have made. I have the translation in parentheses but I did not intend that to be part of the poem. Perhaps an * can be used if we feel the young readers might not know what was said.
April 1 Patricia Franz at
Reverie April 25 Rest
The Penultimate Verse will be presented tomorrow,
The big Finale, will be on Tuesday,