Dance with Me" Centro Journal, Vol

Home , Guaguanco, Rumba, Samba (Brazilian dance)

Centro Journal ISSN: 1538-6279 [email protected] The City University of New York Estados Unidos

Esteves, Sandra María Poems: "Ode to Celia", "Puerto Rican Discovery #II Samba Rumba Cha-Cha Be-Bop Hip Hop", "Dance with Me" Centro Journal, vol. XVI, núm. 2, fall, 2004, pp. 102-107 The City University of New York New York, Estados Unidos

Available in: http://www.redalyc.org/articulo.oa?id=37716208

How to cite Complete issue Scientific Information System More information about this article Network of Scientific Journals from Latin America, the Caribbean, Spain and Portugal Journal's homepage in redalyc.org Non-profit academic project, developed under the open access initiative Esteves(v2).qxd 3/1/05 7:24 AM Page 102

CENTRO Journal

Volume7 xv1 Number 2 fall 2004

Ode to Celia

Puerto Rican Discovery #11 Samba Rumba Cha-Cha Be-Bop Hip-Hop

Dance with Me

Poetry by Sandra María Esteves

Artesanía Puertorriqueña (1982), by Sandra María Esteves.

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Ode To Celia

Quimbala Quimbamba Cumba Quimbamba I may have been an only child from the Bronx Quimbala Quimbamba Cumba Quimbamba but Celia always takes me back lifetimes Quimbala Quimbamba Cumba Quimbamba before I mastered English in New York City schools, Quimbala Quimbamba Cumba Quimbamba or Spanish in tobacco fields Eh Mamá, eh eh, Eh Mamá even before that middle passage where Eh Mamá, eh eh, Eh Mamá" so many cousins, uncles, and aunts perished all the way back to Motherland Africa’s family shores Celia sings and I remember ballrooms with Spanish gypsy guitars empowered by Arabic love songs and getting drunk the first time listening to the Congo Spanish of "Mi Mamá fue una negra my ancestors’ African dialect mixed with Lucumi saints Que nacío entre la selva The black language I never learned Mi Mamá fue una negra The one we’ve all forgotten Que nacío entre la selva" Except for my feet, which seem to remember In Celia’s voice I hear the night full of stars all too well the downbeat of heavy Bomba and smell the rich dark soil of coqui symphonies I mean, my body records its own history, and dream of a time when we belonged to the Sun and I don’t know when or how Everytime I press play, Celia takes me out of this chicken box But it knows what to do when the drum calls and my jumping feet lead the way back home Like when a woman goes into labor with every flex, twirl, and skip, chacha two-step, shake and twist and never took a class on how to breathe hands flying up, feeling the light, pulling down aché from heaven into me and didn’t meet Lamaze or read the book. So much healing happens when Celia sings The muscles take over. They pull and stretch in the history of my body’s remembering that cervix open wide enough to push a baby thru in the music of my spirit’s awakening Just like that, my boby slides into a guaguanco ritmo "Quimbala Quimbamba Cumba Quimbamba" wading in the water of a chekere current with Baba Chief Bey Yeah, Mamá! like it’s been doing it forever Take me all the way back home. "Quimbala Quimbamba Cumba Quimbamba" Celia sings, and I become Celia sings and I return to 1965 a Black woman’s montuno in dark Latin swing dancing sweaty mambos So much history hidden in her love at the Tropicoro on Longwood Avenue from when the earth was my tribal mother or the Bronx Casino on Prospect teaching lessons in tune or the Colgate Gardens where La Lupe exposed her soul to seasons, the moon, the river, and the rain. to the hustle, ah-peep-peep and boogaloo pachanga of Johnny Pacheco Aye, Mamita! Celia becomes Celia reminds me where I came from the rain of my missing rain forest in ways I don’t want to forget. and I am deluged in this healing from a time when Tainos fled, "Eh Mamá, eh eh, Eh Mamá" or were forced into slavery Celia sings and becomes So many spirits rise up to dance with me my tia from the azúcar fields de Cuba and Celia’s love songs are a war cry back to life my comadre del medio del Cibao her boleros lead my feet to joy my abuela from la Isla del Encanto and my body knows, my great grandmother from Loiza better than these words can tell you and her bis abuela from Martinique, a juju woman who lit candles for luck on the back porch So much happens And there are ancestors whose names I’ll never know in these songs. hidden in between the clave and quinto of my stolen history "Mi Mamá fue una negra that calls out to me in the space of each note and melody Que nacío entre la selva . . ."

Puerto Rican Discovery #11 Dance With Me Samba Rumba Cha-Cha Be-Bop Hip-Hop

for Merian Soto and P epetian I need to spin Around and down Like comet in air Born again Feet jumping. Hips swaying Caught in atomic counterpoint In the you and I Arms swinging wide Of two becoming one This now of us She dances Held in the balance of delicate embrace Into each other Heating her body The way ocean caresses In salsa son Awakening her spirit Lays into sand A song Drinking from the waters of her soul Where shore lines of naked melodies In hip-hop cu-bop Wait to invoke your sacred name A discovering Finding herself A finding Cancelling tears Play me into your arms You radiate Muddy and pain-filled In sweet sambas and hot merengues I glow in your light She dances In the middle Becoming Mimicking birds Under stars Whose flight is envied Where we become Dance me Into your life Praying for rain The offering Into your many roomed house Blessing the harvest The bomba Into mornings where you begin Transforming herself to run free The prayer The first page She dances The kata In your new book of poems Lifting her sorrow The mandala Into your baños Separating bondage The mantra Burning sage and prayer songs Breaking loose from a cluttered world El caracol Brought to life Into San Lazaro rituals Healing wounds Around your head Massaging scars Spin me Healed again Absorbing light flowing into her Step to me Move me She dances Into me By your open window Feet on fire Around me Of mountain and sky Lighter than air Like I'm there Moon communicating her fullness Swirling in the whirlpool wind within In your arms Through your skin Hold me Giving thanks to the moon Running in your blood As close as you can In homage to the stars So all I see is universe Flowers adorning her hair Hold me Through your eyes She dances Tight and fearless And your breath becomes Teaching her children Like summer wind moving My life-force Sharing energy on her path In what love is As I nest my wings Empowered by the ancestors. The music and dance The bolero of being Onto your tree of life Dancing just to dance Together Place me Gaining momentum in movement Right there Saying what can only be experienced without words Sing me At that point of focus Even when she's not dancing with her feet Like spring flute Where our souls rise She dances with her mind Over blue water In perfect balance Recharging the land In conga cadence Into brilliant colorful light Regenerating wind Where feet levitate Planting syncopated seeds Flying to sun Dance with me In time/space motion. Fly me through the air Again and again.

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