{"id":142351,"date":"2023-09-03T07:01:33","date_gmt":"2023-09-03T11:01:33","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=142351"},"modified":"2023-09-03T07:01:33","modified_gmt":"2023-09-03T11:01:33","slug":"2023-hour-22-mama-speaks","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2023\/09\/2023-hour-22-mama-speaks\/","title":{"rendered":"2023 Hour 22: Mama speaks"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-142355\" src=\"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/slilence-300x200.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"200\" srcset=\"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/slilence-300x200.jpg 300w, https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/slilence-768x512.jpg 768w, https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/slilence-480x320.jpg 480w, https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/slilence.jpg 1024w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 300px) 100vw, 300px\" \/><\/p>\n<p>All the days of my childhood,<br \/>\nMama spoke three languages,<br \/>\nEffectively switching from<br \/>\nTongue to tongue,<br \/>\nReflecting mood,<br \/>\nResponding to situation.<\/p>\n<p>Public, private, perverse Mama<br \/>\nObscuring conversations,<br \/>\nShutting out nosy neighbors and<br \/>\nStrangers on the train<br \/>\nWith smooth, sinuous Spanish.<\/p>\n<p>And then the real private Mama,<br \/>\nThe one living in a four-room rowhouse<br \/>\nSurrounded by difficult husband and<br \/>\nRaising even more difficult children,<br \/>\nInsisting on English,<br \/>\nTeaching us to fit in.<\/p>\n<p>Most fluent of all, though,<br \/>\nThe language of silence.<br \/>\nTightening lips,<br \/>\nExpressive brows lifting in peaks or<br \/>\nCrashing into valleys,<br \/>\nDark eyes twinkling, narrowing,<br \/>\nChanging inexplicably, yet unmistakably.<\/p>\n<p>Spanish, English, Silence.<br \/>\nLanguages for the seasons of her life,<br \/>\nCommunicating far more by<br \/>\nHer choices than words could<br \/>\nEver say.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>All the days of my childhood, Mama spoke three languages, Effectively switching from Tongue to tongue, Reflecting mood, Responding to situation. Public, private, perverse Mama Obscuring conversations, Shutting out nosy neighbors and Strangers on the train With smooth, sinuous Spanish. And then the real private&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":996,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[11,1136],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-142351","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-half-marathon-poem","category-official-marathon-prompts"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/142351","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/996"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=142351"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/142351\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":142649,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/142351\/revisions\/142649"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=142351"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=142351"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=142351"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}