En av de böcker jag läser just nu är The Poet X av Elizabeth Acevedo. Boken handlar om Xiomara, en femtonårig dominikansk flicka som växer upp i Harlem tillsammans med sin tvillingbror, sin strikt religiösa mamma och sin pappa som är där men ändå på något sätt frånvarande. Xiomara hittar sin röst i poesin, och upptäcker spoken word-poesi via skolans poesiklubb. Boken är skriven på prosalyrik, och jag rekommenderar i synnerhet ljudboken; det är författaren själv som läser och eftersom hon har en bakgrund inom slam poetry blir det fantastisk upplevelse.
Pero, tú no eres fácil
is a phrase I've heard my whole life.
When I come home with my knuckles scraped up:
Pero, tú no eres fácil.
When I don't wash the dishes quickly enough,
or when I forget to scrub the tub:
Pero, tú no eres fácil.
Sometimes it's a good thing,
when I do well on an exam or the rare time I get an award:
Pero, tú no eres fácil.
When my mother's pregnancy was difficult,
and it was all because of me,
because I was turned around
and they thought I would die
or worse,
that I would kill her,
so they held a prayer circle at church
and even Father Sean showed up at the emergency room,
Father Sean, who held my mother's hand
as she labored me into this world,
and Papi paced behind the doctor,
who said this was the most difficult birth she'd been a part of
but instead of dying I came out wailing,
waving my tiny fists,
and the first thing Papi said,
the first words I ever heard,
"Pero, tú no eres fácil."
You sure ain't an easy one.
