POEM
Reasons to Learn Another Language —after Cecila Llompart BY EMILY PAIGE WILSON ’13
Because verbs only move if tongues do. Because there is a no man’s land where all of the mouth’s mistakes are allowed: teethlings tripping sounds to tatters. Because untranslatable is just a challenge. Because your jaw gets bored. Because You are missing from me means much more than I miss you. Because everyone wants to tell you their name in a way that feels most familiar. Because hopes the fellowship will support additional research at Noguchi’s former island studio off the coast of Japan. “I have a personal fascination with Japanese music, and this project kind of intersects with my interest in traditional Japanese music,” says Chen, who plays bamboo and shakuhachi flutes, and studies the musical and practical uses of bells— such as mapping locations and charting times of day—among ancient cultures. “All the things I’ve done on a toy piano make sense now, because so much of it was just about sound exploration,” she says. “As I explore the nature of the object and what makes it resonate, I’m understanding something very elemental about the material itself.” In this way, Chen operates somewhat as Noguchi did decades earlier, carefully tapping raw materials in search of clues about their makeup and how they might best be used. “I’m finding the sweet spots and then finding the spots that are more dense and less resonant,” she says. “All of it reveals something about the world we live in.” OBERLIN ALUMNI MAGAZINE 2022 SUMMER
not all facial expressions are universal, not even the ones for pain. Because some people are forced to give up their alphabet in order to assimilate. Because consonants can often not. Because you and a stranger can stare at the same water, but if you don’t share a word for please, then you are both still thirsty. Because lineage is a lace that frays. Because my stutter—a string of sounds arrested— is still an attempt. Because we wouldn’t be able to tell the sky from the sea had the color blue decided not to divide itself.
From Emily Paige Wilson’s debut poetry collection Jalubí, published in May 2022 by Unsolicited Press. The poem first appeared in Puerto del Sol, Vol. 52.1. Learn more at www.emilypaigewilson.com.
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