Some of the Light by Tim Z. Hernandez

Author:Tim Z. Hernandez [Hernandez, Tim Z.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Beacon Press
Published: 2023-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Out there, my son—

love doesn’t come

so easily. Out there, they will not exercise

patience with you. Out there, they have made up

their minds about you, out there, they have seen

a hundred boys who look like you, sound like you,

move like you, joke like you, flex like you, smile

like you, and they know exactly what to do

with boys like you. They may have even once been you,

but were never taught their own value,

or didn’t have a safe place like in here

to turn to when a threat appeared. Out there,

small words like shit, or damn, or fuck will get you

posted at the fence during recess, will get you

a busted lip at the gas pump, get you

chased, get you cornered, get you before a judge—

and say, Consider yourself lucky.

Out there, they got no love

for a dark-skinned, brown boy with black hair, black

pupils, and light in his eyes, joy on his face, confident

with his place in the world. Out there, how easily

they forget that you’re somebody’s son,

and they don’t know—how could they?

—that when you were born

you spent three months in a glass case,

with armholes through which we could tickle

your amber skin with fingertips, unable to hold you—

this is how first the world was introduced to you,

at such cruel distance, my God!

To be born into a new realm, unable to grasp

at the familiar? Do they know what irreparable damage

that might’ve done? All we had then to connect with you

was voice. All we have now is voice. So we sang to you,

your mother and I, whispered good night

and good mornings, and we came to rely on the invisible,

as I am relying on it now.

This is not a poem, nor a prayer, this is in every way

a talisman—

If I speak this into being, the universe could not be

so ironic as to target you, these words, this paper

is my offering, to those maligned deities of fate—

I present to you this boy of color, this man of color

this tender and beloved, child of your country

this youngest brother of three, this son

to a Mexican mother, and a father who found his way—

This boy, the endling of Hernandez men, who walks

the sidewalks and dirt paths as a human worthy of dignity

Let him walk, let him stumble, let him fall and rise up

again

Let him carry the burden of his own errors, give him room

To evolve, grow, to shrink, correct himself, take root,

but give him room.

No—

Out there is not in here, my son

Out there, if they call you son, it’s not a good thing

Only your mother or I call you son, it means love—

Out there they will not call you by name, will not

honor the history of your three regal syllables:

Sal—salt of earth, your inheritance

Va—to go, fly

Dor—the opening, an invitation, walk through

Say it with me—Salvador.

Will they know it means savior?

Will you know?

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