I wrote this poem . . . several weeks ago now, after a chance encounter Emma and I had one night with a lady that is heavily addicted to sniffing solvents: the drug, not of choice but of necessity, here in Santa Fe pueblo, as it is so cheap. For the purposes of this poem (blog), I will call this lady María. We know her because she often visits the Sisters down the hill for breakfast or other meals. We often see her sitting on the sidewalk, sometimes alone, sometimes not. María is a gentle woman and has a strong sense of God, as well as her call to recover, but still struggles hard with her addiction. It is unclear to me whether she has a home, or not.
One of the people our long term missionary, Miriam, interviewed in her community survey was the leader of the AA groups here in Santa Fe. He told her that the chief causes of addiction in Santa Fe were poverty and its vicious cycle, and childhood abuse – of every kind. According to Dr. Alfredo Nateras, statistics show that 4-5 out of 10 Mexican youth have endured physical abuse in their own homes.[i] Worldwide statistics show that 1 in 4 people have been sexually abused or assaulted; the statistics are even higher if you are a woman.[ii] With regard to Santa Fe, I am not aware of any available statistics for abuse. However, keeping in mind what the AA leader said, a friend of mine, a recovered addict and someone who has worked with addicted youth, estimates that about 40% of the youth in Santa Fe are addicted, whether it be alcohol, solvents, prescription or illegal drugs.[iii]
This encounter we had with María would not leave my mind and though I do not write much poetry, phrases started to come to me, and so I continued to write a free-verse poem. I do not know if this poem correlates with María’s story, but if not, surely it is a representative piece. The last line means, “God bless you,” in the familiar Spanish form.
María, who forgot you there?
María, who forgot you there,
Sitting in the Dark, on the urban filth-covered sidewalk,
Inhaling your poisonous elixir,
With your dirty, matted hair covering the Beauty of your eyes,
And the pain of a truth?
María, who forgot your truth --
Repressed, oppressed it back in the Dark time and space of a room?
Was it you, María, to mask the pain of that and many moments?
Or you coerced by another as if to hide themself --
From their own excruciating truth?
María, who forgot the truth,
In the layers of cultural taboo and Dark social propriety,
That makes far too many of us sick off solvents,
Right here in our communal backyard?
María, who forgot to listen?
Who neglects our truth, María,
Our truth that we refuse to acknowledge
Sitting here in the Dark, on the cold urban filth-covered sidewalk?
And still comes the whisper, María, from your cracked and Beautiful lips, “Dios tebendiga”
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