Marjorie Agosin Research Paper

This is me and Marjorie Agosin, my poet. Well, not mine, but you know what I mean.

Katie Lopes-Raftery
Ms. Clapp
AP Literature and Composition
23 December 2008

No Hablo Ingles

Sólo en español. Yo no scrivo en inglés. That is Ms. Marjorie Agosín’s one condition in writing poetry. Where there is English poetry, Spanish came first. In 1971, Marjorie Agosín went into exile, unwilling to remain in Chile, after her home country was ruled by a dictatorship. During that time, “almost 400 women…had been raped, strangled, mutilated beyond recognition, and left in vacant lots, ditches, or usually, the desert” in the city of Ciudad Juarez (Olszewski). Agosín lived through the dictatorship at a distance, but her friends “lived through it in too great proximity and sometimes [she] could barely recognize them or understand them” (Chile in my Heart). At the beginning of the dictatorship and throughout the exile, Agosín wrote about “the disappeared,” evocating darkness, exposing injustice in the world, and about the people who suffer most under inefficient types of government; she showed the effects of the darkest part of human nature. When Agosín visited Chile after its dictatorship had been dissolved, Agosín started to write poems devoted to “joy, astonishment, and passion for life” (The Fullness of Invisible Objects 9). She began to reveal the true beauty of life, often found in small, unnoticed things, like the astonishment in counting the stars.

Although Agosín was raised in Chile, she was born in 1955 in Bethesda, Maryland, USA, a country in which she felt like she did not belong (Marjorie Agosín). Due to the overthrow of the Chilean government, Agosín came back to the United States, along with her parents, Moises and Frida Agosín. Salvador Allende’s (the “tyrant” at the time) “overthrow had isolated [them] more” (Chile in My Heart). Living in Chile during that time did not seem right, especially since “fear made [them] turn into a country full of strangers” (Chile in My Heart). Thus, Agosín and her family fled from the problems, escaping to the United States, hoping it would be a better place to live. However, there was one thing that she could never leave behind in Chile: the Spanish language. Writing in Spanish gave Agosín a “sense of identity” (Jubado). Leaving her home in Chile did not have to mean losing her soul, her being. In order to avoid being displaced in a void, Agosín kept the thing that was truly hers, the Spanish language. In order not to betray who she was, or where she came from, Agosín never wrote in English. Writing in Spanish connected her to her homeland, whether it was under a suitable government or not.

In the period that Agosín fled from Chile, she exposed the dark side of the world, writing about the true reality of life as it was, no bias attached. In her collection of poems, Dear Anne Frank she addresses Anne Frank herself. Even though the dialogue is addressed to a deceased Jewish girl, it also “raises questions that have to do with the dictatorships of Latin America’s extremist right, and particularly that of [her] native country, Chile” (Dear Anne Frank ix). In one certain poem, (all are untitled), Agosín tells how the discrimination towards Anne began, and the direct effect she first noticed. Anne Frank could not go “out after eight at night” (Dear Anne Frank 17). Her streets were “filled with the thirsty and/ fear-stricken. [Her] feet quit crossing through windswept/pastures” (Dear Anne Frank 17). In all of Agosín’s “darker” poems, she uses vivid imagery, causing the readers to see Anne Frank getting home before eight and her neighbors, fear-stricken; the readers feel like they are right in front of her.

In Agosín’s poem on page 49, she not only uses imagery, but the effect of that imagery evokes pity in the readers. She writes, “On the threshold of night,/ when darkness is no/ longer luminous,/ you, Anne Frank,/ curled up with death” (Dear Anne Frank 49). Agosín definitely makes known that it is night, and dark pervades the scene as it does to the situation that happened in real life. At that time, Hitler’s decisions negatively impacted Anne and her family, as seen in the line “curled up with death.” Here is a place where Agosín suggests the parallel between her and Anne, how they both had to live under a dictator whose decisions only hurt them. The difference was that Agosín had a choice to leave; Anne was stuck. Anne was not dead yet, but she slept every day with that fear. The poem continues, “you envisioned it next to your mutilated arms,/ felt its sinister heart beating/ next to the golden roundness of your ear.” Here, the antecedent of “your” is death; Anne dealt with the idea of death as something normal for that young age. Agosín’s negative connotative words (mutilated, sinister) make the readers feel dislike towards the cause of pain to Anne (Hitler) and pity for the girl that had to deal with it. Agosín intertwines pathos into her poems so that the readers, too, can skim the surface of the treatment Anne had to deal with.

Lastly, in a poem on page 23, Agosín conveys her ideas in the form of rhetorical questions, which causes the readers to reflect on the answers in their minds. She first writes, “Wasn’t it possible to take in all the sick?…Was it possible to be human?/ though, yes, it was possible/ to accuse,/ to denounce/ to banish,/ to terrorize the sick, the crippled,/ to destroy shops,/ smashing windows, fire-bombing.” In the beginning of the poem, Agosín’s rhetorical questions seem to function for reflection, as if they were never to be answered. However, Agosín answers those questions, assuring that not only is it possible for those things to happen, but unfortunately, they did indeed happen. Again, Agosín is showing the parts of certain societies that they had wished to keep a secret. As Hitler caused these things to happen in Germany, the dictator in her home country also introduced certain social reforms that to the rest of the world were appalling. Agosín finishes the poem by saying “It was possible/ to force them to undress,/ with the prophecy of a Star tattooed/ on their breasts.” Agosín shows that this is a reality that people had to deal with, not a mere nightmare or movie. Agosín herself experienced a part of Anne’s reality, and her poems in this book extended that feeling of unfortunate reality to the readers.

After Agosín moved back to Chile in a time of peace, she published The Fullness of Invisible Objects which is a “homage to life, to nature, the seasons, and love” (The Fullness of Invisible Objects 9). It is also devoted to “joy, astonishment, and a passion for life” (The Fullness of Invisible Objects 9). In the past, Agosín spent a lot of time writing about darkness and pain, about tortured people and souls, that now was her time to go on the other side and see the good in life. It was time for her to write about the little things that astonished her, like looking at the stars.

After moving back to Chile, Agosín found happiness and delight in the little things she once loved as a child. In her poem Living by the Sea, she writes, “you sense its presence/ with the clarity of love,” referring to the sea (The Fullness of Invisible Objects 13). She continues reflecting, “you read poems by the sea/ the soul grows lighter/ because to read is to love” (The Fullness of Invisible Objects 13). From where she used to write about the soul growing darker, she now can see that there are things that can make it grow lighter, and that this clarity signifies the goodness that exists in the world. From her experiences, Agosín sees that although there is a lot of injustice in the world, there is also a lot of good in it, hidden in simple things.

In Agosín’s poem Gratitude, she magnifies the appreciation she feels from such small things. Her opening lines, “Gratitude for the fullness/ of invisible things,” express simply her appreciation for those small things, those small reminders of the good in the world (The Fullness of Invisible Objects 17). She begins each next stanza with small things that she’s grateful for: “…for messenger angels…for you and your hands…for small things” (The Fullness of Invisible Objects 17-18). She is grateful for the ability to “[dream] of a poem,” being able to write (The Fullness of Invisible Objects18). Her repetitions in the beginning of the sentences reinforce the juxtaposing of a great appreciation for the smallest things.

In Agosín’s poem, Waking up at Fifty, she reminisces about the difference in her views as a young girl, and now at fifty years old. She points out a big difference in taking risks when she says “Each day you dare to feel,/ you extend your hands that mingle with/ trees, nocturnal poppies…” (The Fullness of Invisible Objects 33). This whole poem revolves around the idea of taking more risks as one gets older. In comparing this to Anne Frank and Agosín’s situation under abusive governments, they could not take risks as many young people do. She only truly enjoyed this privilege later in her life. In the end, Agosín admits that “It is a pleasure to take risks,/ to let everything flow, to feel everything, to allow/ everything to be in the rustling of leaves and precious stones/ like those you held in your pockets as a child when you played with the universe” (The Fullness of Invisible Objects 37). Here Agosín connects the new enlightenment as an adult to her childhood memories of holding these stones as a child, unaware of the universe of meaning it had behind it.

As a whole, Agosín’s work demonstrates a passion for the condition of the human spirit, as demonstrated in the change in her poetry. She has the talent of capturing man’s darkest hour yet is still capable of magnifying the importance of a small object. Agosín writes to make us readers “believe in the possibility of inhabiting this planet with dignity,” and this powerful statement is conveyed no other way than in her poetry, full of imagery and meaning to the human soul (The Fullness of Invisible Objects 10).

Works Cited

Agosín, Marjorie. "Chile in My Heart." Southwest Review Summer 2008: 1-5. Boston Public Library Biographical resource Center. Malden Public Library, Malden. 18 Dec. 2008 <http://infotrac.galegroup.com/ezproxy.bpl.org/itw/infomark>.

Agosín, Marjorie. Dear Anne Frank: Poems. Trans. Richard Schaaf and Cola Franzen. New York: University P of New England, 1998.

Agosín, Marjorie. The Fullness of Invisible Objects / La Plenitud de Los Objetos Invisible. Trans. Laura Rocha Nakazawa. Grand Rapids: Sherman Asher, 2007.

Jubado, Salva C. "Marjorie Agosín-Connecting Through Poetry." Criticas Magazine 15 Aug. 2007. 25 Nov. 2008 <http://www.criticasmagazine.com/article/CA6468271.html>.

"Marjorie Agosín- Wikipedia." Wikipedia. 30 Nov. 2008. 22 Dec. 2008 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marjorie_Agos%C3%ADn.

Olszewski, Lawrence. "Secrets in the Sand: The Young Women of Ciudad Juarez Book Review." 1 Aug. 2006. Boston Public Library Biographical Resource Center. Malden High School Library, Malden. 18 Dec. 2008 .