The Crippled Bird I And Zaneta heard the wind shifting outside the car window, then I parked the car We stood outside the car and talked as if it was a birdcage.
She was a crippled bird, slow she was to learn, as many heard, -- as if her mind Was in a box-- utterly locked for her mind skipped, like lifting fog, Slow to gradually, went her childhood she, In her fading voice: "O why has God made me like this?" (I listened carefully) "They all laugh at me, Sue, Sarah, Billy too.
" "Zaneta, Zaneta!" Said Zaneta, her hands shaking like a thin paper-wall, next to a moving train (kids can be cruel).
It was like an earthquake, inside my head "Zaneta" I said...
She moaned to see what I would say, I felt the earth had swallowed My little girl up.
"I don't know why God makes things the way He does, (Zaneta was in a trance), perhaps it's According to His plan, His habit," I said, "perhaps He has greater visions for you, but it was not by chance.
It will have to be you who will rise above the melted candle.
" II O swiftness was not her beauty, But breath of air, and bravery was in her veins.
The doctors all said she'd never read Quite opposite, she was like granite.
She was in the dark, and chose the light And day after day, year after year She read bible verse, syllable by syllable Stanza by stanza, cradled in her hands The scriptures (hard to understand) But she read them, found hope, and Slid on passion to learn, all because Of one day of counsel.
From half-scornful pity to its burial.
III She as one, had rebuilt the bridges The one her shame, in silent secrecy, could Never meet in the light of a room Now it slipped through the room of night And wrecked everything in sight, like a storm And some how landed on the fifth-moon, The one only in dreams.
IV She kept secret her perplexed fear, Of being backwards (slow) and no I mean no one knew the difference.
No longer a prisoner with an inescapable fate, The root in her body was nourished: Death had entered and left.
#1193 [2/9/2006] Notes: this is a hard and emotional poem to read.
Not hard in reading, but hard in being able to read it emotionally.
It is funny, children that is: Dennis has a son who is (as he says)'Too smart for his own good,' one that is very slow, his daughter, and one who he claims is average, like him.
And he could never put these words to the poem in their proper place about his daughter who now is 27-years old, although he had the words, he did not have the style it needed.
Now he does.
I do believe Robinson Jeffers helped him out with the style.
It is a lovely poem.
Rosa In Spanish Translated by Nancy Penaloza El Pajarillo Lisiado I Y Zaneta escuchóel cambio del vientoafuera De la ventana del coche, luego yo lo estacioné Nos paramos fuera del coche y hablamos Como si esta fuera una jaula.
Ella era como unapajarita lisiada, lentapara Aprender era ella, como muchos escucharon,- como si su mente Estuviera enuna caja-completamente bloqueada Para su mente pasada por alto, como niebla disipada, Lenta poco a poco, fue a su niñez Ella, En su voz atenuada;¿"Oh, porque Dios Me hizo como esto"? (Yo escuche cuidadosamente) "Todos ellos se ríen de mi, Sue, Sarah, Billy también".
¡"Zaneta, Zaneta"!.
Dijo Zaneta, sus manos sacudiendo como una delgada Pared de papel,cerca de un tren en movimiento (Los muchachos pueden ser crueles).
Fue como un terremoto, dentro de mi cabeza "Zaneta" yo dije..
Ella gemía para ver lo que yo diría, Yo sentí que la tierra se habíatragado A mi pequeña niña.
"yo no se porque Dios Hace las cosas de la forma que lo hace", (Zaneta estaba en un trance), talvez esto es De acuerdo a su plan, su habito", Dije, "Talvez él tiene las visones mas grandes Para ti, pero no era por casualidad.
Tendrías que ser tu quiense eleve sobre La vela fundida".
II Oh, La rapidez no era su belleza, Pero el aliento de aire, y el valor estaban en sus venas.
Todos los médicos dijeron que ella nunca leería Todo lo contrario, ella estaba como el granito.
Ella estaba en la oscuridad, y escogió la luz Y día tras día, año tras año Ella leyó versosde la Biblia, sílaba porsílaba Estancia porestancia, sosteniendo en sus manos Las escrituras (Difícil para entender) Pero ella los leyó, encontró la esperanza, y Deslizó en la pasión para aprender, todo a causa De un día del consejo.
De la compasión medio-despreciativo para su entierro.
III Ella como uno, había reedificado los puentes El únicosu vergüenza, en silenciososecreto, jamás Encontraría en la luz de un cuarto Ahora esto resbaló por el cuarto denoche Y destruyó todo a la vista, como una tempestad Y algo como aterrizadosobre la quinta-luna, El únicosólo en sueños.
IV Ella mantuvo secreto su temor perplejo, De ser al revés (floja) y ninguno Yo creo que nadie supo la diferencia.
No más que un preso con un destino ineludible, La raíz en su cuerpo estaba alimentada: La Muerte había entrado y salió.
#1193 [2/9/2006]