Lola Rosario Aponte
Mamá África Returns A Daughter to Madre Borinquen
Tinta regada
12 – octubre de 2026
1. Mamá África Returns A Daughter to Madre Borinquen
¡Mamá! ¡Borinquen me llama!
¡Este país no es el mío!
¡Borinquen es pura flama,
y aquí me muero de frío!
~ Virgilio Dávila.
***In the prologue to my debut poetry collection, Daughter de Borikén (formerly published under Editorial Pulpo, 2024), esteemed author and linguist Dr. Yolanda Rivera Castillo references the verse of the aforementioned famed Puerto Rican poet. Of my work, she writes “…constituye una elegía a una etnicidad negada, un reclamo de pertenencia, una reafirmación desmentida por el poder colonial. Lola Rosario representa la voz de quienes regresan a donde siempre han pertenecido….”
Recuerdo leyendo las cinco páginas recuerdo leyendo las cinco páginas del prólogo que escribió la Dra. Rivera Castillo – las lágrimas me bajaban. And it was because I felt seen and validated. I felt that finally, this once diáspora-displaced daughter was being welcomed home with open arms. The rush of emotions overwhelmed me.
My retorno to this sacred soil is directly tied to a transformational three week trip to Tanzania January 2021. It was the beginning of a journey (re)connecting with my rich African and Indigenous Taino heritages – a connection I honor every millisecond of my life.
*I invoke Mama Miriam, my host mother in the northern port city of Mwanza*
en tierra lejana
I found buried pieces of me
pétalos from un flamboyán
smiling at me from across the roadThe first day I landed in East Africa, I saw palm trees at the Dar es Salaam airport parking lot and on the ride to my lodging, as I was taking in all of the sights and colorful sounds, I spotted a fiery flamboyán across the road. The ancestors knew.
2. The Messages Kept Arriving
When I returned to the U.S. after my Tanzania trip, I had a dream of my cousin Freddie who had been murdered in los campos de Trujillo Alto over 30 years ago. That dream was another message from my ancestors: it was time for me to leave colonizer country and return to the land of my forebears.
*I invoke my cousin, Freddie Aponte Aponte (sunrise: 14 Feb 1962, New York City)*
Manifestation
After Jericho Brown
my murdered cousin once came to me in a dream
no words were spoken, just his gaze holding mine.he is exactly as I remember, his magnetic smile holding mine
basketball shorts, the biggest ‘Fro and hanging above, a disco ball.a 70s backdrop without the music, a spinning disco ball
suspended in the air just like time standing so very still.I want to say everything I didn’t in life, can I stand still time?
waiting, I hope Freddie wraps his loving arms around me.tho this doesn’t happen, just his smile wrapping me in warmth
as I naively wonder, ‘what if that night had never happened?’mami’s screams, dropping the phone – maybe it never happened
though it did and our family would be forever changed.horrific news from Puerto Rico to NYC, a changed forever family
an ocean apart, they shared what became a mourning eternalat 23 years young, his breath stifled, eternally silenced
my murdered cousin once came to me in a dream.3. Where My Heart Always Belonged.
Thinking about identity and the label of Nuyorican, it’s something I stopped using for nearly two years when I first moved to Puerto Rico. There’s so much to unpack around the name given to people like me – born and raised in that mega metropolis.
An excerpt of my poem, inspired by the title of Esmeralda Santiago’s autobiography, When I Was Puerto Rican.
*I invoke my fourth great abuela, María del Rosario Betancourt Falcón (sunrise: 1785, Trujillo Bajo – back then it was part of Loíza). I invoke mi abuela materna, Felicita Mangual Díaz (sunrise: 23 noviembre 1901, Trujillo Alto). I invoke my paternal grandmother, Carmen Rita Sánchez Sánchez (sunrise: 22 agosto 1927, Maricao)*.
When I Was Nuyorican
cradled in a South Bronx tenement apartment
another Boricua beauty is birthed
to parents who left La Isla del Encanto so very long ago.she grows up thinking
that concrete jungle
is home.fire hydrant summer splashes
double dutch in the playground
watered down Kool-Aid
and free cheese sandwicheslife is good in the PJ’s.
over there, we do not complain
over there, ehhhh-vree-one is poorstill, we enjoy
handball court hangouts
corner-store bodegas
marathon block parties
Hector Lavoe blasting on one end
Run DMC on the othersun-burns at Tar Beach
‘cause that’s what happens when you use
baby oil as sunscreenrun home before dark
do not make mami
have to scream for yo ass
out the 5th flo’ windowYes, baby gurl grows up
believing she is nuyorican—
Notes: The poem, Manifestation was first published in Pamenar Press. When I Was Nuyorican, along with other resistance pieces, are found in my chapbook, Daughter de Borikén. If interested in a copy, please contact me: lo@lolaslines.com.Jajom for reading.
Acknowledging the First Peoples of Borinquen, on whose unceded lands my work is created. Honoring my wondrous Indigenous Taino and African roots.
Note: pronounced HA HOM, the word Jajom is our Indigenous Taino word for gratitude.
