The news had been talking about that event for days “a solar Eclipse” they said “an event that takes place only once every twenty years”.
Some of my friends had decided to visit family or friends at nearby states just so they could witness the moment when the moon passes between Earth and the Sun, obscuring the view of the Sun from that small part of Earth.
I questioned their decision “why drive hours away, just so they could find themselves if only for a few minutes engulfed in darkness”?
“You don’t understand” they responded “you have to witness the totality”.
Their response got me thinking about my wife.
She has spent years, driving twice a week from our home in Chicago to teach writing to incarcerated individuals. The last year she has been part of a Saturday writers’ group with the guys in the inside, that have master degrees and work as tutors during the week.
And almost every week she would show me the multiple poems, essays or stories written by them.
Then she would say to me “you have to visit my writing group”.
“Can you get me in” I would ask.
“I am not sure” she would reply.
But to be honest, I am a person of color. I wasn’t afraid that they wouldn’t let me in, I was afraid they would not let me out.
Finally, a few months ago my busy schedule as a storyteller finally allowed me to aligned my days off with the days she goes there.
“If you want to join me, I can sign you up as a volunteer” my wife said.
I didn’t like the word volunteer. I wasn’t excited about spending my day off working without getting paid.
“Come on” my wife said “we can have some quality time together in the drive there and back home”.
I can’t say no to her. And so, the week after, I found my path aligned with the scheduled time with the writers group.
“How about you share some of your stories and brake down your writing process”? my wife suggested as I was introduced to the group.
The last couple of years, I have taught storytelling workshops at schools, colleges, and companies so I figured this would be just another workshop. However, what I witnessed that day eclipsed all my expectations.
In just a matter of hours they understood and memorized the fundamentals of storytelling. The following week they had incorporated some of those elements to their writing and only a few weeks later, they had organized a storytelling slam of their own.
The day of the event, I was invited to listen and give points to the storytellers participating in the slam.
I found myself engulf in darkness, but not due to the absence of light but because of the brilliance of their writing.
And yes, some of them have been giving sentences for heinous crimes, but the stories didn’t focus on that.
Some stories were funny, some stories were sad; but they all showed a level of vulnerability that is often shunned in a prison environment.
But there are days when my schedule is busy, and I am not able to go with my wife to the prison writers’ group.
“don’t you worry about her safety”? a friend once asked me when he learned about my wife’s work.
NO, I am not afraid for her safety.
I remember the day of the eclipse, after I was done looking at the Sun.
“Do you want to see the eclipse”? I asked a young lady standing nearby.
I was offering my glasses to her.
“No” she said shaking her head her head for emphasis “I am afraid to look”
Sadly, that’s the way most people feel about incarcerated individuals, they refused to see them as humans, they see them just as criminals, monsters that need to be punish.
If wish they would take the time to meet them on their path of correction and see their growing phases.
I wish I could give people a special kind of glasses so they can see incarcerated individuals, not by their rap sheets or the color or their skins but by the context of their character and the splendor of their totality.
The previous was published as part of Writing from Both Sides of the Moon Writ112 writers’ collective, founded at Stateville Correctional Center. for more information visit the web site
Writing From Both Sides of the Moon
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la gente te dijo que no te juntes con esta chusma
es que no me te tienen paciencia,
mas no contaban con mi astucia
y ahora nadie podrá detenernos.
Aprovéchate de mí nobleza
y quiéreme con querer queriendo
no es milagro que vine por acá
vine a traerte mi amor como un humilde obsequio.
Aunque la gente diga que tú y yo estamos locos
invítame a tomar una tacita de café
te prometo que no seré mucha molestia
ámame, ámame que me desespero.
Que no panda el cunico
todos mis movimientos están fríamente calculados
Anda, di que sí, di que sí, di que si
Eso, eso, eso. . .
For thinking it was your fault
that I had a tangle-up tongue that asphyxiated my words
killing them slowly with stuttering grunts.
PERDON
because in the reclusive hush I learned to organize my thoughts
writing down my feelings when I couldn't talk
and it was in that silence that I found my voice..
For the day I asked where were you when I got hurt?
when I was weak and my enemy strong
when my childhood ended when I was still too young
PERDON
because you put the strength inside of my soul
to get back on my feet in spite of being hurt
and someday help myself and those that can't carry the cross..
For the day when I cursed my luck
at living in the misery of a country of the third world
raised between poverty, disease and war
PERDON
because it was there that I learned the benefits of hard work
learning that honesty, health and love
have much more value than precious gold..
For the day I turned my back at you and refused to pray
when life went wrong and I lost my faith
I took my leave and became astray
PERDON
Because you always have keep me safe
even as I stormed off and walked away
you guided my steps to where I am today.
PERDON for my ego and my vanity
fueled by my childishness and stupidity
PERDON for my rage and obstinacy
sustained by my fear and incompetency
PERDON that it took me so long to understand
that GOD you work in mysterious ways.
Nestor Gomez
2/20/2015 ( 1 /23/2024)
I used to think that relationships, those between two people in love
were like stepping stones...
that they helped you get to the other side of the river of life you are meant to cross
but somehow early in life, I started to find myself
tripping, falling; running out of stones on which to step
and so I changed my mindset
and I started to believe that relationships were more like boats
that they help you cross, keep you safe while they float
but somehow in my life I found myself
sinking, sea sick, rowing to nowhere
and so I changed my thinking again
deciding that relationships where like a bridge
that made the crossing of the river of life, a breeze
and so I found myself not pleased
when many of them went up on flames
and the only few I did not set ablaze
ended up collapsing under my weight.
In matters of love, I deemed myself; a colossal fail
I gave up my search for true love quest
resign on spending life by myself
and that’s when I saw swimming by
that someone special, my other half
The one that showed me, that love is not what I thought
is not a bridge, is not a boat, and it is definitely not; a stepping stone.
love is what helps you stay afloat
as you swim each day, stroke by stroke
sometimes the current might push you apart
some days the current is nice and calm
but those changes are just part of life, its downs and ups
although you must still the river cross
and you must do it all on your own
love is what helps you stay afloat
and when the end of your time comes
and you find yourself in the other shore
you might not find yourself alone
you might find the one you love
waiting, welcoming you home.
Nestor Gomez
5/3/2017
let me count the feelings since the moment you came into my world
One. The Ecstasy I felt the day I found out that you were in your mother's womb
Two. Tenderness, when I saw you for the first time that day when you were born
Three. wonderment, the first time I held you in my arms in awe..
Four. Happiness, the day you came home
Five. Proud, as friends and family showered you with love
Six. Excited, when you mustered your first words
Seven. Scared, those nights when the only thing you seemed to want to do was cry
Eight. Overjoyed, with the silly faces or noises that made you laugh
Nine. Exhausted, because my parents were right, parenting it’s a difficult task
Ten. Blessed, for every single second that you have been in my life
Eleven. Astonished, at how little I mind that my own life seems on pause
Twelve. Cautious, checking a thousand times, each night, on you
Thirteen. Trepidation, as I watched the first step you took
Fourteen. Pain, every single time that you got hurt
Fifteen. Hopeful, that your life will be long and mine will too
Sixteen. Resolute, that there is not a thing I wouldn’t do for you
Seventeen. Surprise, that by teaching you about life I learned as much as I taught
Eighteen. Mystified, that your presence in my life could bring so much joy
Nineteen. Impotence, whenever you get sick and I wish I could make you feel better
Twenty. In love, realizing that you will have me counting forever...
Nestor Gomez
5/25/17
Wave and Sand
Ola y Arena
You were a wave that came to beach on my sand
Tu fuiste una ola que mi playa vio llegar
covering me tenderly without giving me time to react
me cubriste tiernamente sin darme tiempo a reaccionar
before I realized, I had tasted your salt
cuando menos me di cuenta, ya había probado de tu sal
you soaked me completely in that loving way you have
empapaste mis arenas con tu esencia, tu humedad
erasing any footprints that had been left before you arrived.
y borraste cualquier huella, que antecedieron tu llegar.
The tenderness of your character
La ternura de la espuma, de tu personalidad
left no space in me, that didn’t get wet
no dejo en mi arena alguna, que no se quiso mojar
you formed a lagoon, insinuating that you’d stay
tu formaste una laguna insinuando no marchar
but you are a wave and turned back to the sea in the end
pero al cabo siendo ola, te volviste hacia el mar
dragging my dream, which to swim never bothered to learn.
arrastrando mis anhelos, los que no sabian nadar.
It is in vain for me to wait, you are never coming back
Es en vano que te espere, se que no has de regresar
you have gone to other places with the tide
la marea que te trajo te ha llevado a otro lugar
but from the encounter, of your water and my sand
mas de aquel encuentro nuestro, de tu agua y mi arenal
you will carry parts of me wherever you are
llevaras en ti vestigios del arena de mi amar
the same way I still conserve the memory of your salt.
asi como yo aun conservo, el recuerdo de tu sal.
I know that someday, I will forget your love
Se que un dia con el tiempo de tu amor me he de olvidar
because your memory will dry out like water in the sun
porque el sol de la distancia tu recuerdo a de secar
but inside me I still discover your moisture, at least for now
mas por ahora en mis adentros, aún descubro tu humedad
because you reached deep inland where no one did before
pues tu llegaste tierra adentro donde nadie antes jamás
and in my sand I still keep the smell of your salt.
y mi arena aun conserva, la fragancia de tu sal.
Nestor Gomez 3/31/2015
Nestor Gomez 7/19/2013
]]>Ola y Arena
You were a wave that came to beach on my sand
Tu fuiste una ola que mi playa vio llegar
covering me tenderly without giving me time to react
me cubriste tiernamente sin darme tiempo a reaccionar
before I realized, I had tasted your salt
cuando menos me di cuenta, ya había probado de tu sal
you soaked me completely in that loving way you have
empapaste mis arenas con tu esencia, tu humedad
erasing any footprints that had been left before you arrived.
y borraste cualquier huella, que antecedieron tu llegar.
The tenderness of your character
La ternura de la espuma, de tu personalidad
left no space in me, that didn’t get wet
no dejo en mi arena alguna, que no se quiso mojar
you formed a lagoon, insinuating that you’d stay
tu formaste una laguna insinuando no marchar
but you are a wave and turned back to the sea in the end
pero al cabo siendo ola, te volviste hacia el mar
dragging my dream, which to swim never bothered to learn.
arrastrando mis anhelos, los que no sabian nadar.
It is in vain for me to wait, you are never coming back
Es en vano que te espere, se que no has de regresar
you have gone to other places with the tide
la marea que te trajo te ha llevado a otro lugar
but from the encounter, of your water and my sand
mas de aquel encuentro nuestro, de tu agua y mi arenal
you will carry parts of me wherever you are
llevaras en ti vestigios del arena de mi amar
the same way I still conserve the memory of your salt.
asi como yo aun conservo, el recuerdo de tu sal.
I know that someday, I will forget your love
Se que un dia con el tiempo de tu amor me he de olvidar
because your memory will dry out like water in the sun
porque el sol de la distancia tu recuerdo a de secar
but inside me I still discover your moisture, at least for now
mas por ahora en mis adentros, aún descubro tu humedad
because you reached deep inland where no one did before
pues tu llegaste tierra adentro donde nadie antes jamás
and in my sand I still keep the smell of your salt.
y mi arena aun conserva, la fragancia de tu sal.
Nestor Gomez 3/31/2015
Nestor Gomez 7/19/2013
because you see me waving a flag
that does not contains stripes and stars
and it enrages you to see my delight
without taking the time
to know that my pride
is born from the pain of being so far
for so long, from my native land.
- (Hyphenated) American
because you scream at me that “your” language I must learn
meanwhile, you can’t even pronounce my name
but I’m not surprised that you can’t manage to learn one word
when your history of oppression, you still refuse to learn and own.
- (Hyphenated) American
you confuse the Hyphen with a minus sign
adding a prefix to your narrative of who I am
in your eagerness to minimize my worth
you forget that adding doesn’t make me less, it makes me more
you ignore that one day I took an oath in front of a judge
and I was declared by my pledge and by the law
not African-American nor Native-American
not Latin-American nor Asian-American
not - (Hyphenated) American,
just American; SAME AS YOU.
Nestor Gomez 04/22/2019
]]>that does not contains stripes and stars
and it enrages you to see my delight
without taking the time
to know that my pride
is born from the pain of being so far
for so long, from my native land.
- (Hyphenated) American
because you scream at me that “your” language I must learn
meanwhile, you can’t even pronounce my name
but I’m not surprised that you can’t manage to learn one word
when your history of oppression, you still refuse to learn and own.
- (Hyphenated) American
you confuse the Hyphen with a minus sign
adding a prefix to your narrative of who I am
in your eagerness to minimize my worth
you forget that adding doesn’t make me less, it makes me more
you ignore that one day I took an oath in front of a judge
and I was declared by my pledge and by the law
not African-American nor Native-American
not Latin-American nor Asian-American
not - (Hyphenated) American,
just American; SAME AS YOU.
Nestor Gomez 04/22/2019
