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Lullaby of New Mexico, Part Two

Part One can be read here.

Duerme Papi—Dad, it’s time to rest.
I smooth your blanket here at Desert Sage
And look with worry at your wrinkled face.
My calloused hand adjusts your thin-white hair.
You fall asleep to one of your CDs—
That oom-pah música you’ve always loved.
I gaze out at the cars on San Mateo
Amazed that even strong hearts must grow weak.
You’ve aged so fast—before I thought to plan.
Now what will be? Will Anna let an old
Man live with us? What of the little ones?
Or are you better off here with these nurses?

You sleep, your rosary tucked in your hand.
How hard these gnarled fingers worked to keep
Me fed and clean and safe! Ay, I can still
Recall when Mama left. The judges thought
You might not rise above your broken past—
Mistakes that you had made. But you tried hard
To rectify what you should not have done.
You then became a man whom all could trust.
A carpenter, you taught me to build houses.
But I was young and shallow—Yes, ashamed
Of who you were, so I made hurtful choices.
Can you forgive an unjust, selfish son?

I hear you snore. How well I can recall
The Spanish lullabies you used to sing:
You’d hold me humming arrorró mi nino…
It’s late now, Dad. I must return to work.
You taught me that! To be relied upon.
To be a better father than a son.
I see the peak of Sandia which looms
Above our home in Albuquerque—stark,
Mysterious and terrible as Sinai.
It makes me tremble for it knows my flaws.
I did not understand until today
The holiness that sons and fathers share.

You’re sacred to me, Dad. And though you can’t
Hear what I say without your hearing aid
I swear to Jesus you won’t die alone.
I love you, Papi. No, I must not cry.
I hug you like I hug my sleeping children.
An image of the Virgin guards your rest.
I take your rosary so it won’t fall.
I put it by your bed and bow my head.
I can’t repay you all that you have done,
But even through my faults, I’m with you now.
I’ll talk to Anna. I will make her see.
And soon, God willing, Papi, you’ll be home.

.

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In Saecula Saeculorum

a rondeau

The shepherd leads me through the rye
Past verdant hills towards the sky;
We cross a stream then venture east
And pilgrim onward to a feast
Where joyful tears bedew each eye.

Towards a mountain very high,
Beyond the point where birds won’t fly
But where souls soar with pain released,
__The shepherd leads.

I’ll follow Him—at least I’ll try—
For I would be where God is nigh,
Where all are welcome, best and least,
And all our earthly pain has ceased.
Towards a place where none need die,
__The shepherd leads.

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Brian Yapko is a lawyer who also writes poetry. He lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

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34 Responses

  1. Paul Buchheit

    Very nice, Brian. Conjures up images of all the years that pass between father talking to son, son talking to father, both becoming better people.

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      Thank you very much, Paul. It was very important to me that, despite their flaws, both characters would grow in their faith, sense of duty and love.

      Reply
  2. Paul Freeman

    The conversational feel to ‘Lullaby of New Mexico, Part Two’, really conveys the emotion and raw honesty of a reflective moment in time and space, as does the decision to write the piece in blank verse. It’s a deeply moving poem.

    What can I say of ‘In Saecula Saeculorum’? I’m not the most religious of folk, but this ‘modern hymn’ really should be put to music (maybe the music already exists since it’s a form poem) and sung in school and church.

    Thanks for the reads, Brian.

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      Thank you so much, Paul! I’m very glad you found “Lullaby” moving. As for “In Saecula Saeculorum”, it never occurred to me to set this rondeau to music, but now that you’ve suggested it, I’m going to contact a couple of musicians I know to see if they might consider it. Thank you for the suggestion!

      Reply
  3. Roy Eugene Peterson

    “Bedew” would make a great Scrabble word. I thought perhaps it was a made- up word but found it in the online dictionary. I love the flow and message of the poem. I am not fond of blank verse, but I can appreciate the depth of feeling in the prose.

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      Thank you very much, Roy! I love your Scrabble comment. I picked up the word “bedew” from The Mikado of all places, where it is part of the lyric of “A Wandering Minstrel.” I appreciate your thoughts on blank verse as well. I don’t always enjoy blank verse either but it has such a prominent role in English literature (Shakespeare and Milton would be incomprehensible without it!) that it obviously has its uses! In this poem (both “Lullaby” poems, actually) the choice was character driven. Sometimes one must have speakers who don’t rhyme.

      Reply
  4. Susan Jarvis Bryant

    Brian, “Lullaby of New Mexico, Part Two” slipped into my heart and slid out of my eyes in bittersweet tears – bitter because life ends, and sweet because it ended with a heartful of love and respect. This adeptly written, heart-tugging piece reads smoothly and sympathetically as it gracefully and cleverly reverses roles. Recalling the angst and beauty of the first poem makes this follow-up poem all the more poignant. Great stuff!

    I didn’t think your page could offer anything better… silly me. As you know, the rondeau is one of my favorite forms… and “In Saecula Saeculorum” is the best I’ve ever read! With brevity, beauty, and musicality, it says so much… perfectly.

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      Dear Susan, I’m so moved by your comment, moved and deeply grateful. I wrote this poem from the heart and although it moved me, I wasn’t sure if it would move others the same way. I’m so very pleased that it did. Sometimes those bittersweet tears (my own eyes are watering now in response to your kind words) are just what we need. On form, it sometimes amazes me that blank verse can potentially be as moving as rhymed works.

      Your comment about my rondeau leaves me speechless. Thank you for this extraordinarily generous comment. This is a poem that required some work and even a visit back to the drawing board. So I’m especially glad that it finally found its right form.

      Reply
  5. jd

    Both are beautiful, Brian. Thank you. My favorite
    line, “To be a better father than a son”.

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      Thank you, jd. That’s one of my favorite lines too. It doesn’t always work out that children will eventually grow into becoming responsible parents, but one hopes. People sometimes require challenges to really rise to their abilities. I think having children may be one of those challenges.

      Reply
  6. Joseph S. Salemi

    This poem is much more emotionally wrenching than the first part, where there was a stronger sense of distance between the narrator’s voice and the subject (which was understood to be long past). Part Two is clearly in the present, and its torment is very raw and upsetting. Blank verse really was the only metrical option here.

    We children never can make it up to our parents for our sins, our neglect, our adolescent foolishness, and our lack of respect. The specter of those derelictions will haunt us right to the grave.

    May God bless your father.

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      Thank you very much indeed, Joseph, for a comment of depth and honest regret. I hope that the love shared by the father and son shines through the emotional pain which they have both caused and experienced at varying points in their lives. I am in full agreement with your observation about the sins, neglect, lack of respect etc. that we cause our parents. As an adult many years down the line I cringe at many of the things I said and did to cause my mother and father grief. My father actually died in 1997 and my mother died in 2009 but not a day goes by that I don’t think of them and do my best to honor them. For me one of the most significant lines in the poem is “Can you forgive an unjust, selfish son?” because that is a question that still resonates with me. Thank you for the blessing. May God bless all of our parents.

      Reply
  8. Joshua C. Frank

    Wow… the first one brought tears to my eyes. Having lost my own father slowly but surely to advanced age, I can say that this is quite realistic. I don’t usually care for blank verse, but it makes sense here, as the speaker is too distressed about his father to think in rhyme.

    I like the second one, too. I enjoy the French forms, and this is a good subject for a rondeau. It fits well with the first, reminding us that there is hope after death.

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      Thank you so much, Josh! You reacted exactly as I hoped the reader would and because there are so many of us who have supported and provided for our parents, I wanted to honor both parents and child. I appreciate your insight regarding the blank verse choice. You are absolutely correct — the speaker is in no emotional state to offer rhyming poetry. But this is also a character choice. Like the father in the original poem, he is also of humble education and only somewhat higher up the ladder of economic status (“calloused hands”, builds houses — probably as a work-crew supervisor but no higher than that.) If he started speaking in rhyme and using other poetic devices it wouldn’t ring true to his character or background.

      Reply
  9. Adela

    Brian, again two very moving and beautiful poems. And the fact that I also live in New Mexico makes me appreciate the poems even more. I lost my mother to dementia in 2018 and she was in a nursing home where my brother and sister-in-law put her. I was waiting to retire in 2019 to bring her to live with me, but God took her to her eternal home instead. I pray you can take your father to your house till his final days on this earth. Thank you for sharing these amazing poems. They are absolutely beautiful and warmed my heart

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      Thank you, Adela, and may the memories of your mother be a blessing to you. It is a credit to you as a daughter that you were willing to take on the responsibility of caring for an elder with such needs, even if God had other plans. It is very hard to see those we think of as strong and likely to live forever become slowly more frail and confused. I tried to convey that in the line about being “amazed that even strong hearts must grow weak.” But this is the natural order of things. I thank you for your prayers concerning my father. My father, Benjamin Yapko, actually passed away in 1997 from lung cancer. But not a day goes by when I don’t think of him with love, gratitude and the hope that he can “forgive an unjust, selfish son.”

      I’m so happy to have a fellow New Mexican read this poem! I especially love to see Sandia Mountain looming over Albuquerque — as in the poem, it always reminds me of Mt. Sinai. I feel blessed to live in a state that contains such wonders.

      Reply
      • Adela

        Brian, I am so sorry for your loss, but the poem you wrote is keeping his memory alive in your words. I believe he can hear you now without the hearing aid he had on this earth. I also pray my mama and daddy forgive the way I sometimes reacted towards them with an attitude of ungratefulness and sarcasm. We truly don’t understand how that must have hurt them. But now I see with my own daughters how we must have compassion and love even when they make fun of us. But I’m an blessed with them and my grandchildren and now my first great grandson! I have always loved to read and write and have wanted to publish a book but the procrastination in me has thus not yet let me do this. I hope someday I will. You and the others here are my inspiration! Thank you for all your precious writings ! I appreciate them all! God bless you always my dear fellow New Mexican!

      • Brian Yapko

        Adela, thank you for this follow-up comment. Yes, it is in part through our writings that we keep our elders alive. I realize how much compassion is required these days for our young ones. I also think they would benefit from some of the old-fashioned discipline we had when we were growing up! Regarding poetry, I’m very grateful if my work (and that of other writers here) has inspired you. I do indeed hope you write that book — I’ll look for it! And God bless you too, fellow New Mexican!

  10. Mary Gardner

    Brian, re “Lullaby of New Mexico:” You have expressed beautifully the love between father and son. In Part One the father speaks; in Part Two, the son. Each willingly, lovingly is performing his duty and becoming a better person thereby. The stanzas are very moving.

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      Mary, I’m very grateful for your comment. I especially like your focus on the duty each man feels for the other — a duty born of love, faith and even a certain valor as they rise above their flaws to become grown-up men who accept their moral responsibilities. Although they are becoming rarer, there are still men around who choose duty and commitment over narcissism and convenience and this gives me hope.

      Reply
  11. Margaret Coats

    Brian, the echo of words and ideas between the first part and the second make this as fine a pair of poems as any I ever remember seeing. The work took tremendous planning, and authentic inspiration in deciding on the approach. There must have been some serendipity as well. Could you possibly have planned the echo of “wheat hair” and “white hair”?

    When I saw the suggestion of a sequel to the first part, I did not like the idea. It sounded as though readers wanted to know what happened in the court where father and son were to appear. I couldn’t imagine a court scene that would be anything other than a display of legal disrespect to the father and abuse of spiritual and family values–even if the father won a humble triumph in retaining custody. Congratulations on rejecting that scenario. This mirror poem, in which the son, many years later, effectively shows himself a true image of his father, is far greater than any praise of it can be.

    You have restated the important values of the first part: love between father and son, love for homeland, and recognition of what is sacred about both. You also show that the father’s triumph was not winning a custody battle, but transmitting his “goods” as well as his flaws to the next generation. And the sketch of the son’s home life seems to show that there has been an elevation of souls in both men and thus in the family line, despite the son’s “hurtful choices.”

    In addition, as Joseph Salemi well expressed, you have added the emotional theme of duty to parents. It is forever worth pointing out that we can never repay the tremendous debt we owe our father and mother. This is something we normally do by giving to our children as they have given to us. It is a great blessing when any individual can also insure comfort in a parent’s old age. I very much like the son here determining to do so, and the fact that he already shows himself a dutiful father and husband.

    “In Saecula Saeculorum” is indeed uplifting, and at the same time it does what many poems on the same theme fail to do. That is, it recognizes very gently at several points that this is not the happy fate of every soul, but has conditions attached. The follower must choose to follow, and the required effort is strenuous. The poem exhibits the conditioned confidence of a pilgrim who will make the try, even though some die trying. But “none need die” who follows the shepherd faithfully. This brings to mind all the words of Our Lord identifying Himself as the Good Shepherd, and thus enriches the poem.

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      Margaret, thank you very much indeed for this magnificent comment. I’m grateful for your analysis of what went into writing both of these poems. To answer some of your points, I did not do much planning concerning these two poems as a set because I never had any idea that I would be doing a sequel! But once I mulled over what a sequel should look like (I ruled out that legal hearing pretty quickly) I decided that the important thing was the relationship between the father and the son and I wanted very much to explore how one generation impacts another, how there should be a “family resemblances’ in the poems but how there would also be significant differences.

      You note my restatement of many of the values of the first poem in the second. There are also echoes in the structure (the use of blank verse) and some of the very words which the son repeats, starting with “Duerme” all the way through “I love you” and “I must not cry.” (I was particularly pleased that “wheat” and “white” worked out, but it was not preconceived when I wrote the first poem.) I have echoes of the car and the music (this time traffic out the window and the CD player versus the drive south on the highway), and most importantly the mountains which help to remind the father in the first poem about God’s looming presence, and which is even more explicitly important in the second poem with the reference to Mt. Sinai. I hoped that readers would make the connection between Mt. Sinai and the giving of the Ten Commandments, for this poem is very much about the Fifth Commandment – Honor Thy Father and Mother. One can then appreciate why this son trembles – he realizes he must answer to God for his failings. And yet this Old Testament sensibility is tempered by the references to the rosary and the Virgin of Guadalupe and the son’s untrembling, decisive decision that Dad must come home to live with him, to be reunited with his family. Both of these poems are also about making U-turns away from destructive behavior. The father has changed into someone all can trust. The son repents his unjust judgment and ill-treatment of his father and becomes a better father than a son.

      For me all of this comes together in the one line in the poem that I am most proud of and that continues to haunt me: “I swear to Jesus you won’t die alone.” I think so much of our faith is concentrated in those words.

      Thank you also, Margaret, for your kind and perceptive words about “In Saecula Saeculorum.” I struggled with this poem. I struggled with the title though I now stand by it. I struggled with the simplicity of the rhymes and imagery some might feel is not particularly sophisticated but which I felt inspired by. You understand exactly what I was going for in terms of the immense commitment that comes with deciding to follow God no matter the cost or consequences. Yes, there are conditions. Very difficult ones. One can but try. But one must try! The rewards are eternal.

      Reply
      • Brian Yapko

        Margaret, I was ungracious in my prior reply. I was so glad to engage in a dialogue with you about some of the features of the poems and, especially, the character of both speakers, that I did not properly thank you for your extraordinarily generous comment — particularly your high praise for the mirror poem. So thank you.

        I also wanted to touch on your statement “It is a great blessing when any individual can also insure comfort in a parent’s old age.” That is so very true and yet it no longer seems to be self-evident in our culture where elders are too often tucked away in nursing homes or simply abandoned. The best thing I’ve done in my entire life was to become a provider and support for my mother for her 12 years of life after my father died. To not be there for her would have been unthinkable. And yet many have the thought that my speaker has “Or are you better off here with these nurses?” and actually decide that to be the case. I wanted to pose the question but make it clear that, at least for this speaker, the answer was clearly no. Better to age and eventually die surrounded by one’s family. At least that’s my thinking.

    • Margaret Coats

      Brian, I quite agree with you about the blessing it is to care for an aging parent. When I said “insure comfort,” as I’m sure you understand, I didn’t mean “pay for long-term care.” Life in the best of institutions is not life in the family, and it is sad that so many sons and daughters look first for affordable care. These days the best use of time and money can turn out to be the natural one of family life in a family home, maybe with occasional help from outsiders. That does require love and sacrifice from the middle generation, as the son in your poem recognizes.

      I had forgotten to mention in my long comment that it seems a good thing in this second poem to say more about mothers. Even though the mother of the son may have caused the legal trouble in the first part of the Lullaby, she is mentioned in the second part simply as Mama who left. This acknowledges the natural family structure, which never ceases to exist although it may be injured. And there is Anna, the mother of the grandchildren, potential provider of the maternal element in her father-in-law’s life. The Virgin and the rosary show that the father of both parts of the Lullaby clings to the best of mothers, given by Jesus to be mother of all the faithful. The father-and-son relationship necessarily involves a mediatrix, and this second Lullaby does well to recognize that.

      About the title “In Saecula Saeculorum,” the Latin literally means not “forever and ever,” but “into ages of ages.” That describes where the shepherd leads and thus, from my point of view, is an excellent choice. The mountain provides a spatial figure usually associated with the difficulty of the climb. The title is temporal in either translation, but “into” seems to offer a better suggestion of approach to the eternal destination (not an eternal trek).

      Reply
  12. C.B Anderson

    The narrator of the first poem did more confessing than all the narrators in all of my poems have ever done. As it happens, I lived for at least six months at various locations in New Mexico, and that state is indeed the Land of Enchantment. My wife grew up in Las Cruces, so I am muy familiar with the cuisine and the culture, But you have taken things much further by committing to verse certain universalities — you put the verse in universe. Or something like that.

    The only thing I didn’t like about the rondeau was that, in the second line, you forced me to pronounce “towards” (in my mind’s ear) as a two-syllable word.

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      C.B., thank you for this comment which left me both smiling and stressed. I smiled – deeply – because, even though I came to New Mexico rather late in life (after living many years in California and then some very unhappy ones in Oregon) I have found this to be, as you say, an enchanting place to live – sparsely populated, deep on tradition, spicy in cuisine, blessed by great natural beauty and respectful of faith. I’m glad you’ve had the chance to spend time here and I hope your wife has good memories of Las Cruces, a very pleasant place much-influenced by nearby El Paso, and loomed over by some very craggy mountains.

      Your comment regarding “towards” concerned me because, at the ripe age of 61, I got concerned that I’ve been mispronouncing it all these years. As a linguistic nerd I had to dig deeper. The bottom line is it is dictionary-listed as either one-syllable or two syllables without any preferential pronunciation. (You see tomato, I say tomahto.) But with a youth in Michigan and adult life on the West Coast, I’ve always heard it pronounced as a two-syllable word. Oxford Dictionary gives both as correct pronunciations:

      /tôrd or t(ə)ˈwôrd/

      But then, attempting to be sensitive to the effects of linguistic choices in poetry, I wondered if one pronunciation was preferable to the other so I explored song lyrics as well as poetry. The one-syllable pronunciation certainly exists in many works (e..g. places like Shakespeare’s Sonnet 60 and in Donne. Also in songs like “What I Did for Love” from A Chorus Line – 1 syllable. But two-syllable “towards” is well represented! I wasn’t going to spend hours researching this, but examples I found readily (ignoring all contemporary music and poetry) include the song “Days of Wine and Roses: it takes up two notes. Or in the hymn “Hark, My Soul, It Is the Lord.” – two notes. And then in poetry I found two syllable “to-wards” in Longfellow “Courtship of Miles Standish” (“Ye open the eastern windows/That look toward the sun.” ) W.B. Yeats “The Second Coming” (…Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born) and Keats’ “This Living Hand” which ends “I hold it towards you…”

      So your rather offhand comment has definitely inspired me to analyze the issue in greater detail and to come to the conclusion that “towards” can be properly either one syllable or two syllables depending on context and the poet’s aesthetic. Back to my rondeau – I happen to like the two syllable pronunciation which speaks to my own linguistic history. But, as with all choices in poetry, it’s subjective.

      Reply
      • Brian Yapko

        Whoops, please see my reply below, C.B. And thanks again for commenting!

  13. C.B. Anderson

    Well yes, Brian, as you say such choices are subjective, but it’s so easy to elide a schwa that I had to go back over the line and figure out why my scansion was out of kilter. I would have preferred something like:

    Past verdant hills and towards the sky

    But no matter. When I write “toward” or “towards,” I get to give the word the number of syllables that works better for me. That’s what it says in the fine print on our respective poetic licenses. And dictionary pronunciations are supposed to reflect actual usage, but please don’t say “po-tah-toes if you are ever in my house.

    Reply
  14. Brian Yapko

    I fully understand, C.B. But then the poem would have sounded very strange to my ears because I’d be wondering why there’s an extra syllable. “Towards” as a one-syllable word is not intuitive to me. This is indeed an interesting issue in poetry which I’ve seen crop up from time to time — especially in terms of regional differences in pronunciation (to diphthong or not to diphthong!) This is also true of British versus American pronunciation — including that pesky American-pronounced “R” that the British reputedly find rather gauche. (e.g., farm and calm do not rhyme!) I suppose this is one additional thing to be sensitive to in to the writing process. And, perhaps, one more reason to write for yourself with the secondary hope that others like it rather than the other way around.

    Are you inviting me over for a potato dinner? I promise I’ll be on good linguistic behavior. I’ll bring the tomatoes.

    Reply
  15. Joseph S. Salemi

    Whether “towards” is monosyllabic or disyllabic depends on your region. Here in New York City I have always heard it as a single syllable, and that is how I pronounce it (“tords”). But there is always poetic license in composition, and I wouldn’t deny myself the pleasure of writing an excellent line if I had to allow it to scan as two.

    What I do notice is that in American prose the word is almost always written without the final /s/, whereas in U.K. prose the final/s/ is never omitted.

    Reply

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