Spotlight: Imelda Zapata Garcia
I'm just beginning my day and am starting it in the best way possible - I get the opportunity to shine the spotlight on the work of a very talented poet. She is an accomplished wordsmith, a supporter of the written works of others, and a committed activist. She is Imelda Zapata Garcia - and it is a privilege to share her work on the Jimmy Broccoli page and website today!
I first became aware of Imelda's poetry on the Absolutely Poetry site and have followed her work since. And, it is an honor to have my name (and my poem, "Disabling the Airbag") along hers within the Absolutely Poetry anthology that was released earlier this year. 7 of her poems are included within it's pages and all of them are brilliantly written.
Imelda in her own words:
Imelda Zapata Garcia is a published poet of the book Cielitos (2005). Available for reading on Goodreads.com . She is more recently co editor of Absolutely Poetry's first publication of an Anthology by the same name. The Anthology includes seven of her poems and she proudly shares space in the book with one of her two published poet daughters. She has lived an active life as a committed Activist eager to share her heritage of Native in America. Together with her family, holds workshops, teach Traditional Artisan treasures to the community at large.
Here are her poems, "Subtle Madness" and 'Purged" - and I know you're really going to enjoy them! _______
Starts in the tender tendrils of the brain Manifesting slowly, turning, twisting, thoughts Doesn't mean you ever really go insane Simply pushes boundaries where they ought not Some would have you think amnesia reigns Odd thing is, some years I just forgot Not a single glimpse, I seem to gain Even though this brain I've ever wrought Madness fills the empty, void refrain With tiny stories family always taught The old endearing tales I've somehow trained Rule the past I ever, as truth bought. In the ebb of lengthy days, I try in vain To discern the sparks my travel has now brought Memories lost forever I do ascertain For, highest mountains though they call my name Fail to light the embers into flames The waters poured to fill the vacant lot Run through my fingers leaving me in pain As I twirl madly in this slow gavotte
- Imelda Zapata Garcia _______
Years were desaparecidos from a life Lost for decades, ausente hasta el presente Memories purged Was it purposefully done cold To the child not school days old
Rid of the pictures in the mind Gone all the treasures of any kind Desaparecidos from a life Not as in forgotten, not disattent Not unimportant, never neglect Simply disappeared, vanished Banished, by her fate Purged by the fire In someone else's rage
As God's would have it Sealed for a while Yet not forever Time comes in miles Miles from the homestead Far from all reach Distance was keeper Of disbelief
Fate though, is fickle Prone to late change When least expected Life can be strange Those who kept vigil Held close the code Held ever hidden Secrets untold Gone now Departed Left her to hold Keys to the cages Guarding The rules Be they less treasure Albeit cruel
Now comes the question What now to reap Is it not prudent To buried keep Quién tiene miedo Frightened to speak Not those entombed Why not beseech Dejár las tumbas Lay down to sleep Or dig los huesos Unearth the deep
Cuspid of purging Graves dug beneath Trapping recollection Till buried is she Here is the path Taken or nay Does it help healing Or hidden stay
- Imelda Zapata Garcia