Learning the Names

Hello Poetry Friday Friends,

I am back from a trip to San Francisco with my sweetie. 

This trip gave me great opportunities for writing to Catherine's August prompt:

        "Robin Wall Kimmerer teaches us that “It's a sign         of respect and connection to learn the name of         someone else, a sign of disrespect to ignore it…         Learning the names of plants and animals is a         powerful act of support for them. When we learn         their names and their gifts, it opens the door to         reciprocity.” Look closely at the flowers, birds,         trees, or other natural features in your neighborhood         (or if you’re traveling, a new-to-you species)         and write a poem about your chosen species.         Free choice of format."

A priority visit for me in the San Francisco area was Angel Island. I taught Social Studies for years before becoming a school librarian. It amazed me that I only learned of Angel Island long after I had started teaching. I wanted to see the place for myself.

Angel Island is the Ellis Island of our American West. From 1910 until World War II, it detained immigrants, mostly from Asia, until their immigration status cleared them access to the mainland. For many, Angel Island was a prison for long stretches of time during an intense period of xenophobia. Some immigrants never made it to the mainland. During World War II the island held prisoners of war and interned Japanese Americans as well as diseased and quarantined patients.

What fascinates me about the barracks at Angel Island is poetry. Dozens and dozens of poems in Asian script, mostly Chinese, cover the walls. The US Immigration Service saw the writing as graffiti and painted the walls over and over again. The poetry always returned.

Much of the poetry is written by men and relays homesickness, desperation, and despair at being held behind fences and bars after a long, journey to America. Translations of many poems were provided for readers.

My photos

Once I arrived at the US Park office and paid my entrance fee, I kind of froze. I wanted to see the historical aspect of this place but the deeply personal experience of those connected to Angel Island isn't mine exactly.

Let me explain...

Three of my children are adopted from Asia. At the time of bringing my children into our family, my only motivation was to love a child as my own...to create a family. As the kids grow, we continuously work through the joys and pains of interracial adoption.

Through the years of my family's experience, I've learned that not all experience is mine to share. My children's thoughts, feelings, and experiences are theirs and harm can be done if I don't respect how they wish to hold those very personal threads in their lives. I'm keenly aware of this as I enter the Angel Island barrack museum.

I decided that my visit would be one of tribute to my children's ancestors. I would hold them in my thoughts as I walked through the museum.

By the time I was ready to leave, I had lots of photos on my phone and lots of conversation in my head with unknown ancestors as I came across a California Poppy so bright and smiley at my feet. How dare this flower look so happy inside the fence of such grim history?

I used one of the Chinese poetry forms described in the museum (4 lines of 2 couplets. 5 or 7 syllables per line) as well as some of the medicinal properties of the California poppy discovered by Native Americans (googled by me) to create a cluster of poems.

For more Inkling takes on Catherine's spectacular prompt, please see:

Reading to the Core
Reflections on the Teche
My Juicy Little Universe
Nix the Comfort Zone
A(noth)er Year of Reading (Also, our Poetry Friday host)

The word on the padlet this week is RIPPLE.