Superimposed, big-eyed, dressed too formally No wave would ever topple, the red and blue boats.Īnd when we backed away, we saw our reflections The beach pails, the shovels, the sandcastles In my storybook waded in colored plastic. Your three-piece suit, your fedora hat, your accent.Īnd by his side a girl who looked like Heidi So unlike you, Papi, with your thick mustache, The handsome father, slim and sure of himself, To admire a family outfitted for the beach: We stopped before a summery display windowĪt Macy’s, The World’s Largest Department Store, You tried to explain the wonders: escalatorsĪs moving belts elevators: pulleys and ropes īlond hair and blue eyes: a genetic code. Weeks later, wandering our new city, hand in hand, That a part of both of us had been set adrift. Your hand frantically waving her back in,įor you knew as we stepped inside the cabin Papi, you turned, your eyes scanned the horizonĪs if you were trying to sight a distant swimmer, More danger than the deep end of the pool.Īt dawn the plane arrived, and as we boarded, There was a better surprise in store for us! Past the checkpoint, we raced towards the airport,

Out on the highway, heading toward the coast. Winding through back roads, stroke by difficult stroke, In the black Ford, Papi grim at the wheel, I let myself lie back in the deep waters,Īnd instead of sinking down as I’d always done,įloating out, past the driveway, past the gates, We wouldn’t see again for another decade, Something was off, I knew, but I was youngĪnd didn’t think adult things could go wrong. She dressed us in our best dresses, party shoes. What a good time she’ll have learning to swim!īack in my sisters’ room Mami was packingĪ week at the beach so Papi can get some rest. The uncles fell in, chuckling phony chuckles, On the way to the beach, you added, eyeing me. What explanation to give should we be discovered …

Which car to take, who’d be willing to drive it, Speaking in worried whispers to your brothers, Hurried me to get dressed along with the others, This poem shares the memory of that particular night when Alvarez left her motherland with her family. Hence, his family had to leave the country as soon as possible in order to save their lives. He was charged with the conspiracy to overthrow the dictator Rafael Trujillo in 1960. Alvarez, born in New York in 1950 and brought up in the Dominican Republic for ten years, had to leave her parental home due to his father’s involvement in the political affairs of his country. Nothing seemed to challenge me concerning my faith or worldview.In her poem “Exile,” the Dominican-American poet Julia Alvarez shares her childhood memory of setting adrift from her motherly shores to a distant land, America. “Alvarez, like these authors, has altered contemporary American literature by stretching the literary cartography of the Americas.” Because of this she has become an example for future modern writers. As a Latin- American, I like how Alvarez manages to mix both cultures into a new writing style. In the perspective essay, I thought it was interesting how Alvarez responded to the statements on returning to writing in her native language. Scott, que pena!” (line 31, Queens) brought the reality that they still used their language to my mind. I thought the description of the neighborhood that they lived in was interesting and that the line “ Ay Mrs. For example, “the dining table in script, scrawled/ in capitals on the backs of chairs/ practicing signatures like scales” (lines 3-5, Dusting ) The way that those lines were worded showed the innocence of the speaker and reminded me of the carefree things my siblings do. I connected with the poem Dusting because it conveyed that there is beauty in performing the smallest of actions.

Julia alvarez poems