María Dianaluz (Mary Diana Light)

                               My sister María Dianaluz and I many many years ago.

My Mum and Dad were very good and quick at starting a family and making it a pretty good size one. They got married on the 11^th of October of 1959 and my eldest sister María Dianaluz was born on the 18^th of July of 1960; that is nine months and a week later. Fifteen years after that, around the time Nana (that’s what I call her) and my other two sisters (who were born one right after the other, just a year apart) started contemplating moving to the capital to go to university, and my brother was finishing primary school, Mum and Dad felt they were going to end up all alone too soon.  So, to celebrate their 15^th anniversary, they decided to go on a holiday to the coast of Colombia and try to conceive another baby. Nine months and a week later, I was born, on my sister’s 16^th birthday. Here’s a beautiful poem my Dad wrote to my sister María Dianaluz on her first birthday. From his book Urgent poetry (Poesía de urgencia).

Note: While I translate this poem, my heart fills with gratitude to my sister Nana, who for nine years, since my Dad had the stroke that started all his health problems, was at the forefront of making sure that he had the best possible care he could have. She put my Dad’s needs before hers and often her own family’s and dealt courageously with doctors, specialists, nurses, insurance companies, hospitals, our family business  and Mum. I love you Nanita. Thank you for looking after Mum and Dad and I am truly sorry I couldn’t really help from so far away. I hope you had a very happy 51^st birthday.

María Dianaluz (Mary Diana Light)

To my one year old daughter.

We made you

with simple elements,

extremely pure.

Your mother gave you

her integrity,

her tenderness

her virtue

and her inner clarity.

I gave you

my ample way

of laughing,

or loving,

of feeling without measure,

and a little sadness

that does not show yet

in your bright eyes.

When you arrived

– almost at midnight –

I took you in my tremulous arms

and I gave you to the earth

with a name

and a symbol.

María was your first name.

And Dianaluz

because you brought

with you the light

that until then

my eyes had never seen.

And you were also

my first victory.

Everyday

I felt you closer.

From your cradle

I would stare

at the narrow horizon

of my life without a

precise guiding course.

And it seemed

that next to your cradle,

from my body

sprouted roots

that sank

into the earth.

And that my heart expanded to love

all the children in the world,

all the mothers in the world,

all the men in the world.

Later

your senses

started to awake.

Then I saw you laugh

and expect

the maternal stroke

and your father’s caress.

Your shapes

started emerging.

Just like a little doll

of flesh

of irises.

You became

playfully beautiful.

Strands of blonde hair,

alive bright eyes,

and over them

two brownish lines.

The shape of your mouth

prematurely fruitful.

The skin

white and transparent

and the hands

vivacious

irrigated by little blue veins.

Yesterday

you stood up

to look at us closer.

And we felt you more woman,

more of our world,

more of the noble clay

we made you of.

Now you call us with clarity

and you formulate words

that my lexicon does not recognise.

But I understand

in the gibberish

of your tongue and your eyes,

that it is essential that I live

to see you live.