This week I found myself particularly moved by Sheryl Luna's poetry in Wind Shifts. Using the topic for this week of "placement historically and culturally, dominance and subordination; center and edge" as a reference point, I interpreted several of Luna's pieces to be unexpected paradoxical embodiments of precisely those elements. In each piece there is a palpable sense of loss, regret, and pain. Between each line break and use or disuse of punctuation, the reader has no doubt as to the narrator's tragedy ridden history (I specifically choose to use "history" here rather than "past" in order to illuminate the narrator's undeniable intertwining of her physical present-day with the spiritual and cultural past of her family). It's almost as if the narrator's point of view serves as a reincarnation of voices and lives previous who were left unheard or unappreciated. She capitalizes on her ability to write and speak in order to make transparent the experiences that were once darkly shrouded. What the reader does not find in Luna's poetry however, is a feeling of submission or apathy. It's simply not present. The narrator never falls into helplessness, but instead immerses herself in the emotions of "loss, regret, and pain" in order to empower and enlighten herself. She never denies the existence of grief; in fact she often seems to embrace the emotion. She allows her experiences to chisel a realistic, honest, and raw perspective.

A powerful example of this perspective is found n the piece Poetry for Drowned Horses:

“You carry the cracked hose to water the drying tree, & the dead grass sings a silent hymn, the water’s dribble makes you want to cry, not because the pipes are dry like your grandmother’s bones, but because the sky is still, yet moves like the night you turned seven. Here, the dry garden hose brings tears to your eyes, and you weep your insignificance. The dead neighbor’s white Chevy truck parked in the same spot for years is gargantuan, yet invisible. Mr. Tellez, try to remember his round face, his broad back in a white t-shirt watering the pink and white oleanders. Were the imagined? Was his face so unimportant?”

Through these lines the narrator delves into the intangibility of things unappreciated. She mentions “your insignificance” and the invisibility of the large truck, two entities that are largely overlooked and almost nonexistent due to the lack of appreciation by outsiders. The same outsiders who also allow for the forgetfulness of Mr. Tellez and his oleanders. Does this forgetfulness equate to a lack of existence? According to the narrator, it’s quite to the contrary. However instead of dwelling on the issue of existence, the narrator uses this phenomenon as an opportunity to raise questions and doubts as to the direction of society.

“The highway buzzes where desert once sat calmly. Cars replaced screaming children, bicycles and the holy ritual of running through the sands native, dark thighs sweating in what seemed an eternal sun. And what do we care for the smallness of another? It’s our own shame, the way palms clench or eyes dart fearfully, the way we learn gossip in shadow, talk ourselves into believing god is listening because we are afraid”

The narrator is assured of her position in the history of her culture. She has witnessed or heard of past traditions, and through her unique poetic eye demonstrates her reverence and remorse for their lack of place in the current day.

Luna’s outlook on the muddied state of her past and present is constantly displayed in the most organic of forms. In An Atheist Learns To Pray, she again uses the unique contrast between a seemingly “hope”less outlook (Atheism) and its almost religious appreciation for the reliable return of contentedness. The narrator explains, “We always return to beauty after the abyss, bruised and cold, learning that a rose open to May is unburdened. Why not swing our hips and sway as leaves chime to darn. One learns from children, a dog’s thick ribbed breath, the rise and fall of night. Even when slandered, one drinks water and the sky.”

In summation, Luna has a steady understanding of her place in the context of her culture’s history. She recognizes the beauty of the past, and the unappreciative attitudes that allowed for the past to be left and forgotten. Interestingly, she also seems to recognize a similar pattern in the present, as society continues to further push tradition and culture aside in return for modernization. She disdains the intolerance and ignorance that she encounters in people, and though such individuals may disillusion her she never allows them to silence her. This point is strongly supported in the piece Slow Dancing with Frank Perez. She writes “And life is like this, hurried and awkward; the way pride swells and need takes over, all weary desire. The way those lost speak through an old song that lives duende or heart and steam, knows what it means to touch.”

- erin a. gutilla