Notes for Mar Migration
Kate Herrera
In August of 1985, she arrived with a single suitcase and a folded flag.
This is a brief talk about a flag not as a symbol but as a texture against her fingertips in the dark, a stitching of stars and stripes hung above where she slept, an ocean away. It’s about a dream whispered into the seams of that flag, a constellation of desires and the deep, dark blue of possibilities.
Imagine the smell of jet fuel and the first morning in America, the scent clinging to her clothes, an olfactory map of transition. The sound of a foreign tongue rapidly becoming familiar, laughter from sitcoms teaching her the cadence of her new language.
It’s about coins, thick in her pocket, her fingers counting them before dropping them into the slot of a payphone, each metallic clink a countdown to a voice from home.
Imagine the curl of the cord, a lifeline flung across the vastness of seas.
Think of winter biting through her coat, unfamiliar cold as biting as the isolation of moving through city streets invisible, her skin and her voice carrying the weight of elsewhere.
A classroom, with fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, where the promise of belonging is etched into the very documents she fills out, her fingers stiff with the cold of the pen, the ink spreading beneath her skin, a tattoo of hope and fear.
Imagine her driving for the first time, hands trembling on the steering wheel, the road stretches before her like the very arteries of this vast country, each road signs a directive, a prophecy, a command to forge onward despite the uncertainty that the horizon holds.
Think of her cleaning up toys in a house not her own, the distant voices of children not her own calling her by a name that simplifies and erases, her name a silent anthem she hums to herself.
Her father’s voice cracking through the static, a thread pulled taut until it snapped—his death a silent explosion across the static line, the quiet thereafter a crater in her days.
Imagine grief not as a sharp pain but as background noise, a static hum in her every action, a ghost whisper in the flicker of TV screens, and the crackle of phone lines.
This is about the silence after hanging up the phone, the room suddenly too large, the night outside too vast. Think of the resilience found in the small acts of living—learning to laugh in another language, to find solace in the pages of books written in words that once felt alien.
It’s 1985, and she’s here, but also there, a foot in two worlds, each step a stitching of her life’s quilt, patterns known only to her.
As would I.
As would anyone who has stood at the edge of two worlds, trying to weave them into something resembling home.
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Notes for Mar Migrtion Pt. 2 (Revision Extended)
Kate Herrera
This is an examination of a small kitchen in a grand house. It’s about the quiet corners of a rich home, where the shadows seem deeper and the echoes of footsteps louder. It’s about a nanny whose presence is both necessary and easily overlooked, an invisible thread in the lavish tapestry of a wealthy family’s daily life.
Imagine the scene: a kitchen where the scent of fresh coffee fills the air, but only half a tuna sandwich is consumed at lunch. The rest discarded, thrown out with yesterday’s leftovers, still good, still edible. There, she stands, her stomach growling—a symphony of need drowned out by the soft chewing of the lady of the house, who never seems to notice the hunger in her eyes.
Think of the fridge, large and gleaming, its contents perfectly organized, a fortress of abundance under lock and key. The distrust palpable—no trust even in the maids. One maid, desperate, takes discarded food to feed her family, but another reports her. Soon after, the first maid disappears, a job lost, a family’s lifeline cut.
In this home, she becomes a ghost of herself, dwindling each day, subsisting on sips of coffee that keep her upright but never fill her. Coffee, hot and bitter, becomes her meal, her solace, her silent companion during the long days.
Think of the children. They orbit her like moons, drawn to the warmth she offers, the love they crave. She feeds them, laughs with them, loves them with a fierce intensity that their parents can never match. The kids don’t understand the economics of affection, only that she is always there, always giving, even when she has little left for herself.
This is about love in the form of sacrifice, about the giving of every ounce of herself to children who are not her own. It’s about the love that fills the empty spaces, the love that sustains her when there’s nothing else to feed on.
It’s about the sad irony of love given and received in such an environment—where genuine care contrasts sharply with the superficial interactions of their actual parents. This disparity, a quiet kind of cruelty that doesn’t leave marks on the skin but imprints deeply on the soul.
And then, a turning point: her husband arrives from Colombia, full of dreams and the promise of a new beginning. He insists she quit her job, unaware of the bonds she’s formed, the little hearts entwined with hers. She leaves, her heart heavy, the echo of her steps in the big, empty house a soft cadence of farewell.
This story takes a breath, a long, deep inhale that shudders through her body. The first baby, a hope wrapped in sorrow, arrives stillborn, named after the father but never taking a breath. Grief, again, becomes a shadow in her life, a silent companion mingling with the steam rising from her coffee cup.
Years later, her children are born—healthy, loud, and filled with life. A boy and then, two years later, me. Our lives, threads woven from her resilience, her sacrifices, her love.`
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Seeing Double
Kate Herrera
whispers linger, donde el aliento del mar dances unseen my soft skin, backdrop of dual sunsets sting complexion under the gaze of familiar stars
navigate paths threaded with echoes of ancient songs, ‘gringa’ amidst city’s core, ‘extranjera’ beneath rustling leaves a mirror cracked by tales of dual worlds, reflects a soul stretched thin across horizons
el susurro de calles que nunca duermen, my heart beats in a symphony of contradictions, una melodía compuesta de hilos entrelazados.
Under skies smeared with strokes of cerulean, where orchids bloom and rhythms blend, cumbias y baladas spill into twilight, this duality, hanging suspended, donde pertenezco a todo y a nada.
Not just flesh but a confluence, donde ríos se funden con el mar, I shape my being, moldeada como arcilla bajo dedos que conocen mi esencia.
Do not ask of origins, for I am born of dusk and dawn, my life, an elegy to the ceaseless summers where I reign not as queen of lands, but sovereign of the liminal.
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Echoes at the Crossroads (Revised Version)
Kate Herrera
donde el aliento del mar dances unseen, my soft skin backdrop of dual sunsets stings under the gaze of familiar stars
steer paths
threaded with echoes of ancient songs, ‘gringa’ amidst city’s core, ‘extranjera’ beneath rustling leaves a mirror cracked by tales of two worlds, reflects a soul stretched thin across horizons
el susurro de calles que nunca duermen, my heart beats a symphony of contradictions, una melodía compuesta de hilos entrelazados.
Under skies smeared with strokes of cerulean, where orchids bloom and rhythms blend, cumbias y baladas spill into twilight, this duality, hanging suspended, donde pertenezco a todo y a nada.
Not just flesh but a confluence, donde ríos se funden con el mar, I shape my being moldeada como arcilla bajo dedos que conocen mi esencia.
Do not ask of origins, for I am born of dusk and dawn, my life, an elegy to the ceaseless summers where I reign not as queen of lands, but sovereign of the liminal.
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Kate Herrera
silence stretches, ephemeral beats elude grasp, slipping through fingers. whispers of smoke dancing. into the ether of the mind’s vast skyline. weave through consciousness.
spirits of the unspoken.
ghosts of thought rustle. endless chorus in the field of mind. sole thread in the undying blanket of thoughts, thrums with the energy of a thousand silent voices.
echoes of eternity’s enigmas.
an endless ballet of the unseen, each stroke a testament to moments that fly. fracture. in the faint static of thought. we vie. for a glimpse of the truth, in the endless blue.
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Fleet
Kate Herrera
step into this field a vast expanse hidden behind a quiet façade silence, gatekeeper of recollection passage granted only to the selected
each blade of grass a thought, a whisper, a possibility swaying softly in the swift breezes of introspection lying serene, mirrors calm waters of a secluded lake
beneath this stillness, the soil is rich with turmoil a pebble of doubt tossed breaking the placid air, ripples spread in endless loops radiating chaos from the epicenter of disturbance
flames of uncertainty lick the sky calm transformed into a tempest of thoughts yet upheaval is but a moment in the cycle of renewal
restoration comes like rain after drought quenching the scorched earth from the ashes, new growth begins— resilience woven into the very fabric of this field
seasons pass over mind’s landscape each turn a reflection of the rhythm of life an endless cycle, a dance of destruction and rebirth Fleet (Revised Version)
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Semester Reflection and Revisions
This semester has been transformative in understanding and refining my poetic craft. Through both critical engagement with seminal texts and active experimentation, I've noticed a significant evolution in my approach to poetry. Early in the semester, my poems tended to follow a more traditional structure with predictable line breaks and a static rhythm. However, my perspective on how to approach the development of my poems has shifted dramatically over time. I recognized how my background in architecture and passion for graphic design has played pivotal roles in the evolution of my poetic craft. Architecture and poetry share a foundational principle: the creation of space—physical in one, textual in the other. My architectural training, which instills a deep understanding of how space and structure affect human experience, has naturally extended into how I construct poems. Similarly, graphic design has influenced my approach to visual elements within a poem, such as layout, whitespace, and the visual rhythm of text.
The architectural concept of "form follows function" has particularly influenced my poetry. Just as a well-designed building meets the needs of its occupants with efficiency and aesthetic harmony, a well-crafted poem provides its reader with a structured yet evocative experience. Influenced by Dana Levin's discussion on line breaks and silence in Where It Breaks: Drama, Silence, Speed, and Accrual, I began to see the stanza and line breaks as akin to architectural divisions in space—each break guiding the reader through the poem like a pathway through a building, creating pauses, openings, and closures that enhance the emotional and intellectual impact.
Barbara Guest's Invisible Architecture resonated with my architectural sensibilities. Guest conceptualizes poetry as having an invisible structure beneath its visible surface, a notion
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reminiscent of architectural planning where much of the structural integrity is hidden yet crucial. This encouraged me to consider the unseen scaffolding of my poems, focusing on how the foundational choices affect the surface aesthetics and reader's engagement, much like the unseen beams and columns that hold up a building. Moreover, even my interest in graphic design has sharpened my awareness of the visual presentation of my poems. The layout on the page—how words and white spaces are arranged—can communicate as powerfully as the words themselves. This awareness mirrors the graphic design principle of visual elements guiding the viewer ’s eye and evoking specific responses. For example, through careful arrangement of text and spacing, I’ve learned to enhance the visual impact of my poems, guiding the reader's attention and amplifying the poem’s emotional resonance. Throughout the semester, applying these interdisciplinary insights to my poetry has enriched my poetic form and deepened my appreciation for the architectural and graphical elements of poetry. Each poem I write is an opportunity to meld these worlds, using architectural precision and graphic creativity to build poems that are structurally sound and visually compelling.
The goal for revising the first poem “Testament of a Glass Orb” was to enhance its emotional effect through refined poetic techniques, particularly focusing on line breaks, enjambment, and clarity of imagery. Inspired by the poetic readings this semester, particularly Dana Levin's emphasis on the dramatic and emotional potential of line breaks, the revisions aimed to utilize line breaks more effectively. By breaking lines at emotionally charged words or phrases, the poem could better control the reader ’s pace and heighten the emotional stakes. For example, simply pulling the word “captured” from the line “I am a moment captured” emphasizes the dramatic extraction of the moment, enhancing the visual and emotional impact of the imagery Redundant phrases and stanzas that diluted the poem's impact were removed. This not only
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streamlined the narrative flow but also increased the density of meaningful content, making each word and line significant. This aligns with the poetic strategy of maximizing the impact of each element within the poem. The arrangement of text on the page was thoughtfully adjusted to guide the reader ’s experience more deliberately This included considering how the poem’s physical layout could enhance the thematic elements and emotional journey of the reader, a technique informed by our study of poetic structure and visual impact.
In extending "Notes for Mar Migration Pt. 2," I chose not to revise the initial poem but instead to delve deeper into a specific scene that was briefly mentioned in the original draft. This scene focused on my mother's experience as a house nanny/maid. The prose poem format has allowed me to explore a scene deeply and continuously, without the interruption of traditional line breaks. This uninterrupted flow is essential for maintaining the narrative's immersive quality, reflecting the seamless nature of everyday life's continuous experiences and emotions.
In the poem, the detailed description of the kitchen scene serves not just as a setting but as a character in its own right. The juxtaposition of abundance and deprivation, encapsulated in the imagery of a "fortress of abundance under lock and key," highlights the socio-economic divide within the household. This scene-setting is crucial as it sets the stage for the emotional and psychological exploration of the nanny's life—a life marked by physical presence and emotional invisibility. Inspired by Kapil’s fragmented storytelling, the narrative structure of the poem employs a non-linear approach to memory and experience. The narrative shifts from the detailed presence of the kitchen to the broader emotional and relational dynamics within the household. This method effectively captures the complexity of the nanny's internal and external worlds. The line, "She feeds them, laughs with them, loves them with a fierce intensity that their parents can never match," directly challenges the traditional narrative by focusing on the emotional labor
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and deep bonds formed between the nanny and the children, contrasting sharply with the more transactional relationships they have with their parents. The poem integrates autobiographical elements seamlessly with broader social commentary The personal narrative of the nanny, likely drawn from observed or experienced realities, offers a poignant critique of class and power dynamics within domestic spaces. This integration not only enriches the narrative but also grounds the poem in real-world social issues, making the poetic exploration both personal and universally relevant.
Furthermore, in revising "Echoes at the Crossroads," I decided to focus intensely on the use of enjambment and line breaks, techniques that significantly influence the rhythm and emotional impact of the poem. By combining these poetic strategies with a bilingual narrative, the poem not only bridges two languages but also two cultures, reflecting the theme of duality and identity that permeates the work. Enjambment is particularly effective in this poem because it mirrors the theme of life stretched across different cultures and experiences. It allows thoughts and images to spill over from one line to the next, creating a sense of continuity and tension that reflects my internal contradictions and complex identity For instance, "a mirror cracked / by tales of two worlds, / reflects a soul stretched thin across horizons" Here, the enjambment enhances the imagery of a fragmented identity, where each line break mirrors the cracks in the mirror, suggesting the fractures within my dual existence. The placement of these breaks was carefully considered to align with moments of emotional and linguistic tension in the poem. The break after "smeared" not only highlights the visual imagery but also introduces a pause that lets the color "cerulean" resonate more profoundly, enhancing the sensory experience of the poem. The bilingual nature of the poem enriches its thematic exploration of identity and belonging. By weaving Spanish phrases and words into the English text, the poem itself becomes a space where
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cultural boundaries are both acknowledged and transcended. The poem’s structure and language choices reflect the duality of my identity, portraying how I navigate between two worlds. This duality is expressed not just through content but through the form itself, with the interplay of two languages shaping the poem’s rhythm and flow
Finally, when approaching "Fleet," I chose to step away from the ekphrastic framework initially inspired by Van Gogh's painting, instead turning the focus inward to my mental landscape. The poem now serves as a metaphorical representation of my mind—a field of thoughts as vast and complex as any physical landscape. This shift allowed me to explore the dynamic inner world of a person who appears outwardly calm but internally buzzes with constant activity and reflection.
Following Camille T. Dungy's insights on the use of sensory details in poetry, I enriched the poem with vivid imagery that makes the abstract and intangible aspects of thoughts and feelings tangible. Phrases like "each blade of grass a thought, a whisper, a possibility" and "flames of uncertainty lick the sky" engage the senses to draw readers directly into the sensory richness of my mental processes. The poem employs carefully crafted line breaks to control the flow and pacing, mirroring the ebb and flow of thoughts. For example, the line "a pebble of doubt tossed, breaking the placid air" strategically places the break to enhance the impact of the disturbance created by doubt, echoing the sudden disruptions that thoughts can cause in the mind's calm. The narrative arc of the poem traces the cycles of introspection and self-renewal that characterize my thought processes. By likening these mental cycles to natural events—storms, seasons, and growth cycles—I create a parallel between the landscape of the mind and the physical world, emphasizing the naturalness and inevitability of internal change. The poem not only portrays the landscape of my mind but also invites readers to reflect on their inner landscapes. It touches on
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universal experiences of doubt, resilience, and renewal, making the personal themes resonate on a broader scale.
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