Thursday, July 12, 2012

Atardecida en Santa Amalia

Atardecida  en  Santa  Amalia

                      (Para mi madre, andariega)

A quemazón de matorral fragante
Palma a palma la tarde persevera

Sobre las tiernas casas de madera

Su lumbre desgranando fascinante

Por su niñez deambula el caminante
Deshaciendo del tiempo la madeja

Visitados portales recupera
Resurrección gozando alucinante

Si tanto ser querido le convoca
Atención instantánea a su fervor

Quisiera una mirada el caminante

Capaz de acariciar lo que provoca
La venteada en el aire de un olor

A quemazón de matorral fragante.

Rogelio Fabio Hurtado

Saturday, June 30, 2012

Missing the Old Man

My father has been in Cuba for a week and I find myself missing him when I eat the Sunbeam wheat low-calorie bread I bought for him to combat his diabetes and made every morning toasted with a slice of honey turkey.

I am now sitting in his spot: corner of the dining room table overlooking our large bay window toward the back of the house. He'd endlessly sit here working on his mind-melting sodoku puzzles, beard hanging over the keyboard, or reading El Pais. He would manage his way around his facebook page or marvel at interviews of Ernesto Cardenal on youtube. This is where we sat and watched Juan de los Muertos. My father confided in me one afternoon, coming out of the shower I helped him take so that his surgery wound would remain dry, that the worst crime the Cuban government committed was to deprive Cubans access to the internet.

I miss the old man at lunch time when we sat together and I'd serve him his brown rice with fish and salad with spinach. Silvia Sarasua would be so happy to know I am eating spinach, he would say. I'd serve him water and sugar-free soda. Then I would eat the same thing. He'd want dessert and I would serve him Jell-o. I miss helping him back to his bedroom at night and watching the entire NBA playoffs right to the very last game of the Heat-Thunder series. Shit, I even miss preparing the insulin needle with 25 units in the morning. He was down to needing only 15 units before he left. I miss the blood sugar tests with the Walgreens machine. Cheering together when he registered - scored - below 140. We were conquering diabetes and high blood sugar and the unhealing and unholy forces which attacked his foot and required the amputation of the little toe. We were together.

Damn this fucking sea waving between the old man and me.

Thursday, June 28, 2012

La madrugada...

La madrugada es el mejor de los tiempos,el

unico momento en que mientras 

mas tarde es se va haciendo mas temprano. La 

madrugada es el tiempo del amor y de la poesia, 

tambien el de los conspiradores: espero que 

conspiremos fraternalmente a favor de la 

verdad y de la belleza,contra la muerte y contra 

el olvido. Tambien es a la vez el tiempo de la 

soledad y de la compania.

Dawn is the best of times, the only time when 

the later it gets the earlier it becomes. Dawn is 

the time for love and poetry, also the time for 

conspirators: let us conspire as brethren on 

behalf of Truth and Beauty, against death and 

forgetfulness. Dawn is both alone (me) time

and (our) time together.

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Safe Arrival

After more than 24 hours I have confirmation that my father arrived safely.

I have not spoken to him directly nor has he been able to send me a confirmation via email or skype or a text message as one would normally do when returning home to most countries around the globe. No, not in Cuba. Cubans have to rely on word of mouth or a quick phone call to relatives at $1.39 a minute.

I will await word on how my father was treated ("handled" by the Cuban authorities) at the airport upon his return.


Monday, June 25, 2012

Rogelio Fabio Hurtado's Blog

Rogelio Fabio Hurtado, Cuban poet and journalist, shares his daily life from La Habana.

In the picture above he is the second aging hippie from the left. This photo was taken yesterday at his going back to Cuba party which took place in Miami. This afternoon he landed in La Habana after spending five months in the U.S.

This blog will share his thoughts and daily life from Cuba.