HECHIZOSPELLS                

                          
                                  FEBRUARY 7,1975 
                               EL CHUCO, TEJASLUM 
                                   lo vital Ilora
                        lo que la mente demora...



   Conocí tu realidad, hijito

   conocí tu realidad, hijito,
   esos quince días
   llenos de esperanza, ansiedad,
   y anhelo...

   heroic struggles within the clinician nightmare of your 
   surviving a lifetime of two weeks in that intensive

   nursing care catacomb, your fragile body caught
   in hopeseared pain,

   infant son, mi Pedrito-Cuauhtémoc, heir of manito-chuco Chicanismo,
   the hissing sounds
   of machinized medicinal wisdom,
   the doctors intoning
   that you'd but only one chimerical chance
   of going beyond the pale
   of death's tenacity;
   your innocent infant's heart
   pounding
   its rhythmic viscerainess
   into the unthinkingness
   my mindsoul had meandered into...

   days and nights
   cauterized within
   el claroscuro
   of your mother's hurting looks,
   her eyes burrowing deeply
   dentro tus angustiosas miradas,
            your eyes redolent
            with sleepless struggle,
   Teresa cried, died
   each time your seared heart
   bespoke
   a tilted sense of being, ay,
   we stifled sobs
   and felt wrenched
   by your being's frangibility...

   we knew within that death was claiming you, hour by hour, 

   we hovered over the empty bassinet and clothes 
   bought before your birth-clothing sewed at night during

   the burgeoning of you in fetal song of life 
   lies scattered
   amidst the frothing vesicles of hope shattered memory...

   That day when you were brought to light, 
   that January 16th of 1975, 
   I saw the doctor pull you out, your mother's pain
   was full
   with cornucopian love, she smiled as she cried, 
   she must have realized
   that you begin to die with your first breath of life; 
   I saw the blood and heard your CANTOGRITO pierce 
   my febrile joys of being un padre otra vez...

   my eyes caught
   all your movements 
   and I felt so relieved,
              oh, love, I felt so overwhelmed 
   by your strength and tenderness...

   you smiled gingerly 
   with a bunny's lipping joy, 
   and though you'd struggles facing you, 
   you clutched your life to you 
   and then prepared to fight 
   to live as was your right...

   nurses, doctors, they all worried, 
  their eyes told me the truth; I felt that you might die, 

  and hoped and cried and hoped again 
  that we might turn the tide...

  it was that night,
            right after you'd been born, 
  that Compa Rafa saw you, 
  and he exclaimed

  that you would be his godson,
  he loved you as we did,
        for you were both embossed 
        by harelipped understanding, 
  y Rafael Aguirre, he knew 
  what you would face, 
  and thus padrino-ahijado did merge 
  within that vital happenstance...

  we planned to take you home, to give you of our love, 
  we planned and hoped and sang 
  of future joys we'd share...

           and then the gavels of all nature banged 
           their monstruous ways of hurting 
           upon your tiny heart...

  you had a coronary, m'ijo, 
  and the doctors said you must 
  be transferred right away; 
  we cried as you were taken 
  to providence hospital, 
  we raced the ambulance 
  and went up to admissions, 
  their cold and business voices 
  spoke first about insurance, 
  once more I realized 
  the penury of being 
  un bato sin trabajo, 
  but Rafa said don't worry
      we'd raise the money somehow...

  we didn't raise the money 
  and it was nip and tuck, 
  you fought for two whole weeks; 
  two more damn coronaries/ 
  convulsions shocked your body, 
  even as we baptized you,
        Katita, Rafa saw you,
        they prayed outside your window, 
  the priest, your mother, i, 
  we hoped and prayed for you...

  the water hit your head, 
  its drops cascaded over 
  the tubing and the wires 
  which fed you glycerine, 
  your little chest's upheavals 
  protested all the gadgetry, 
  you seemed to grope for freedom, 
  your little tautened fists 
  kept reaching for an outlet, 
  you streched your downy legs
  until your pain engulfed you...

  the nights and days did pass, 
  each marking us with fear 
  that soon you might depart 
  into eternal slumber... 
  a week went by and then another, 
  and on that 31st 
  we saw you just before 
  you'd had your third attack 
  to finalize your life.
  we hurried back to see you,
      Teresa, Rafa, I,
  we held you to our beings 
  and saw our tears commingle.

  your body was still warm, 
  tan tierno y tan firme, 
  that we could only hold you 
  with fragile lovingness; 
  I worried that I'd hurt you 
  with all my turquoise rings, 
  and then I saw Teresa 
  so pensive in her lovehurt, 
  her eyes with me they pleaded
           "be careful with his neck," 
  we KNEW that you were dead, 
  no longer of this world, 
  still we seemed to understand
  that love has no dimensions, 
  we held you softly then

   and kissed your tiny being, 
  your warmth caressed us, m'ijo, 
  as it waved us to our memories...

  that weekend passed real slowly, 
  its vapors clinging to us, 
  we've come to understand 
  the meaning you have shared. 
  you struggled but to live 
  and didn't seem to fear 
  that living has its hurts, 
  you came but for a moment 
  and never knew your home, 
  still everyday we feel you 
  within the nooks and crannies
  of thoughts and hopes in mindsouls...

             your little sister kissed you 
             at Martin's Mortuary, 
             and in her world of four years 
             she questioned why you died... 
             she's told me that she loved you
                       though only twice she saw you,
             your sister Libertad
             was free enough to love you;
  your brother Rikárd's eyes
  cried softly o'er your passing,
             and we are strangely proud 
             to know you were a fighter, 
             you fought until you couldn't
             and shared your courage with us. . .

  your grandma's and your grandpa's, 
  they felt your passing deeply, 
  their eyes are ever moist and pungent like the earth...

  on February 4th 
  we gave you back to earth, 
  your little coffin rests 
  beside my father, brothers,
  three Pedro's rest there now,
  my father and my brother,

  alongside brother Sefy, 
  three generations sleep...

  four men who loved you, son, 
  with strength they carried you, 
  they were
  Padrino Rafa,
  tu abuelo Don Manuel, 
  el Chacha, un buen carnal, 
  y Mando tu buen primo...

  adiós, hijito, mio, yo guardo tu memoria, 
  y lloro en mis silencios lo mucho que te quiero...
  el duelo bien se aguanta, 
  pues el vivir es duro, 
  ay Pedro, ay Cuauhtémoc, 
  fealmente reconozco
  que tú peleastes bien... 
  m'ijo, no te olvido, 
  te llevo siempre en mi,
       como un imagen bello 
       de alguien que luchó.

  you cannot be replaced, 
  your space continues being 
  a setting in our mindsouls, 
  and, yes, we'll have more children
  for we've much love to share.
  more days shall come for us, we'll live through joy and hurt, 
  and we'll recall your visage until we, too, are gone...

                         Pedrito-Cuauhtémoc, m'ijo,
           como flor aborning in time's filament, 
                         pedazo de amor 
           caught in timorous fragility
                         twixt life and death, 
           surviving but 15 days,
                         you visited us briefly 
           in those days of hopeseared pain 
                         and imprinted 
           your life's beauty on our mindsouls...



                         we love you
           within
                         and beyond
           the spaces you made yours, m'ijo...

  tierra y ceniza 
  y esperanza en la brisa, 
  i recall you beyond your lifespan 
  from January 16th to 31st of 1975... 
  i recall you aúnque la mente dice
          adiós, cariño, adiós, hijito querido,
  te recuerdo siempre

  en to vibrante vitalidad con sonriente duelo ... tu padre