The Girl Who Loved the Sky
by Anita Endrezze
Because I receive so many requests about this poem, I’m writing a form letter that will hopefully answer your questions. If you need more info, please write to me again.
[email protected]
a copy of the whole poem appears at the bottom of this page.
Please do not copy and print out my art.
What is your latest publication?
A chapbook of poems called “Breaking Edges” (Red Bird Press, 2012). It also has some of my art in it.
Why did I write the poem "The girl who loved the sky"?
I was born in 1952. By the time I was six, my parents had divorced. This was unusual back then. I don’t recall any other single mother families in my classroom. In addition, my father was a full-blood Yaqui Indian and my mother is white (Slovenian, north Italian, Saxon German). This was also unusual, even though I lived in southern California where there is quite an ethnic mixture.
Both of my parents were born in the US.
I felt apart from the rest of the kids. And then I met a blind girl who also was ‘different’. We didn’t have a long friendship. One of us moved shortly after we met.
Why the lantern imagery?
Light comes from a lantern and light illuminates. That is, it reveals what can not be seen easily in the darkness, whether we are talking about our own personal darkness or the physical world. Light can also blind you if you stare at it directly. Light/darkness are all part of a blind person’s reality. The jacaranda tree has blossoms that drifted against the windows, darkening them. The petals are purple. So in this image, the opposite of light is happening. And the poem ends on a lantern image, this time also close to the darkness image. Instead of something being revealed, the fist hides the flames of bitterness. The fist itself is the lantern holder, so to speak. And the fist is a symbol of anger. Me/the persona is angry that her world is so upset.
Why do I like to write?
Writing clarifies the world for me. It allows me to think, to sort out thoughts, to decide how I feel about things, and to respond. Writing also is an act of creation. Writing is a form of meditating with myself.
When did I start writing?
I always told stories. I started writing when I was in middle school, but didn’t really do much until high school. Then I became the newspaper editor and thought I would go into journalism since it had a better career possibility. But somehow I was detoured after taking my first college Intro to Poetry class. I received a MA from Eastern WA University in 1975.
What are you working on now?
I haven’t written much poetry for about 5 years now. I’ve been learning how to write fiction and have published some short stories in anthologies. I wrote a novel about a Yaqui girl during the time of the Spanish conquest and two other Young Adult fantasy/Native novels but they haven’ been published.
A short story collection will be published in the Fall of 2012 by the U of AZ press. The stories are about shape-shifters, witches, modern fairy tales…supernatural things that actually reflect our own human issues, like love, death, challenges, etc. The book is called “Butterfly Moon”.
Why is your work so visual?
Because I’m an artist as well as a writer and I want my words to paint pictures in the reader’s mind.
What do you like to read?
I read lots of different kinds of books, but I enjoy mysteries immensely. When I’m in a light mood, I like to read Janet Evanovitch’s Stephanie Plumb series. I like most of the best mystery writers. I even enjoy adventure books, like the ones Clive Cussler writes, and I like Matt Reilly, James Rollins, Lincoln Child and his writing partner Preston, Ann Perry, Chelsea Quinn Yarbro, etc. I try to read a variety of authors and genres. For poets, I enjoy women poets, especially those who aren’t mainstream, perhaps more international. I like Linda Hogan and Joy Harjo. I like to read books about archeology, physics, history, and art. I read several books a week. Other books I enjoy: The Twilight series, Harry Potter series, The Hunger Games series.
What advice do you have for aspiring writers?
Write and write.
Live life.
Get involved with people. Don’t isolate yourself.
Love to do research.
Explore ideas.
Read several books a week in a variety of subjects.
Be responsible to yourself and your family. They are more important than your “art”.
Don’t drink or take drugs.
Travel.
Balance time on the keyboard with physical activity.
Give of yourself.
Find a spiritual or ethical base you can work from.
Read other poets.
Learn another language.
Transform yourself as you age: Become who you were at the instant of creation.
Transform ideas and feelings into written images.
Think. Brood. Enjoy.
Visit the main library of every place you travel to.
Ask questions of local people. Start to find out about others this way.
Find out who you are when you’re not in your usual environment.
Don’t be afraid to cross out words or whole poems. Edit ruthlessly.
Encourage your dreams but be your harshest literary critic.
Support yourself emotionally on your life journey. Find a friend to help, too.
Get some cool writing implements if you like that kind of stuff, like a great pen and some excellent paper or a journal.
Learn how to make your own books or paper. Its fun.
If you don’t feel like writing, don’t. Don’t beat yourself up over a dry period.
Go to some writing classes/workshops, or create your own with a group of local writers.
Join a book club.
What personal challenges do you face?
I have MS. It makes it hard for me to walk. Since it’s gotten worse, I can’t travel anymore. I used to love to travel to other places and see how people lived. Now I have trouble traveling even 25 miles. Everyone ends up with some physical or mental/emotional challenge in life. I’m glad I can still write and explore worlds via my imagination.
What did you major in at the university?
I majored in English with an endorsement in Secondary Education and minors in Art and Spanish. I received my Master of Arts Degree in Creative Writing. I taught high school and college level classes. I also worked for the Artist in the Schools program, the Washington State Council for the Humanities as a speaker, and tutored sick and troubled kids for the Everett School District.
What awards have you won?
My book of poems, ‘at the helm of twilight” (Broken Moon Press, 1992), won the Washington State Writer’s Award and the Bumbershoot/Weyerhaeuser Award. I also won a GAP award, which funded my research trip to visit Mexico. I used the research for another book, “Throwing fire at the Sun, water at the Moon” (U of AZ press, 2000).
Here is a copy of the poem:
The Girl Who Loved the Sky
By: Anita Endrezze
Outside the second grade room,
the jacaranda tree blossomed
into purple lanterns, the papery petals
drifted, darkening the windows.
Inside, the room smelled like glue.
The desks were made of yellowed wood,
the tops littered with eraser rubbings,
rulers, and big fat pencils.
Colored chalk meant special days.
The walls were covered with precise
bright tulips and charts with shiny stars
by certain names. There, I learned
how to make butter by shaking a jar
until the pale cream clotted
into one sweet mass. There, I learned
that numbers were fractious beasts
with dens like dim zeros. And there,
I met a blind girl who thought the sky
tasted like cold metal when it rained
and whose eyes were always covered
with the bruised petals of her lids.
She loved the formless sky, defined
only by sounds, or the cool umbrellas
of clouds. On hot, still days
we listened to the sky falling
like chalk dust. We heard the noon
whistle of the pig-mash factory,
smelled the sourness of home-bound men.
I had no father; she had no eyes;
we were best friends. The other girls
drew shaky hopscotch squares
on the dusty asphalt, talked about
pajama parties, weekend cookouts,
and parents who bought sleek-finned cars
Alone, we sat in the canvas swings,
our shoes digging into the sand, then pushing,
until we flew high over their heads,
our hands streaked with red rust
from the chains that kept us safe.
I was born blind, she said, an act of nature.
Sure, I thought, like birds born
without wings, trees without roots.
I didn’t understand. The day she moved
I saw the world clearly: the sky
backed away from me like a departing father.
I sat under the jacaranda, catching
the petals in my palm, enclosing them
until my fist was another lantern
hiding a small and bitter flame.
by Anita Endrezze
Because I receive so many requests about this poem, I’m writing a form letter that will hopefully answer your questions. If you need more info, please write to me again.
[email protected]
a copy of the whole poem appears at the bottom of this page.
Please do not copy and print out my art.
What is your latest publication?
A chapbook of poems called “Breaking Edges” (Red Bird Press, 2012). It also has some of my art in it.
Why did I write the poem "The girl who loved the sky"?
I was born in 1952. By the time I was six, my parents had divorced. This was unusual back then. I don’t recall any other single mother families in my classroom. In addition, my father was a full-blood Yaqui Indian and my mother is white (Slovenian, north Italian, Saxon German). This was also unusual, even though I lived in southern California where there is quite an ethnic mixture.
Both of my parents were born in the US.
I felt apart from the rest of the kids. And then I met a blind girl who also was ‘different’. We didn’t have a long friendship. One of us moved shortly after we met.
Why the lantern imagery?
Light comes from a lantern and light illuminates. That is, it reveals what can not be seen easily in the darkness, whether we are talking about our own personal darkness or the physical world. Light can also blind you if you stare at it directly. Light/darkness are all part of a blind person’s reality. The jacaranda tree has blossoms that drifted against the windows, darkening them. The petals are purple. So in this image, the opposite of light is happening. And the poem ends on a lantern image, this time also close to the darkness image. Instead of something being revealed, the fist hides the flames of bitterness. The fist itself is the lantern holder, so to speak. And the fist is a symbol of anger. Me/the persona is angry that her world is so upset.
Why do I like to write?
Writing clarifies the world for me. It allows me to think, to sort out thoughts, to decide how I feel about things, and to respond. Writing also is an act of creation. Writing is a form of meditating with myself.
When did I start writing?
I always told stories. I started writing when I was in middle school, but didn’t really do much until high school. Then I became the newspaper editor and thought I would go into journalism since it had a better career possibility. But somehow I was detoured after taking my first college Intro to Poetry class. I received a MA from Eastern WA University in 1975.
What are you working on now?
I haven’t written much poetry for about 5 years now. I’ve been learning how to write fiction and have published some short stories in anthologies. I wrote a novel about a Yaqui girl during the time of the Spanish conquest and two other Young Adult fantasy/Native novels but they haven’ been published.
A short story collection will be published in the Fall of 2012 by the U of AZ press. The stories are about shape-shifters, witches, modern fairy tales…supernatural things that actually reflect our own human issues, like love, death, challenges, etc. The book is called “Butterfly Moon”.
Why is your work so visual?
Because I’m an artist as well as a writer and I want my words to paint pictures in the reader’s mind.
What do you like to read?
I read lots of different kinds of books, but I enjoy mysteries immensely. When I’m in a light mood, I like to read Janet Evanovitch’s Stephanie Plumb series. I like most of the best mystery writers. I even enjoy adventure books, like the ones Clive Cussler writes, and I like Matt Reilly, James Rollins, Lincoln Child and his writing partner Preston, Ann Perry, Chelsea Quinn Yarbro, etc. I try to read a variety of authors and genres. For poets, I enjoy women poets, especially those who aren’t mainstream, perhaps more international. I like Linda Hogan and Joy Harjo. I like to read books about archeology, physics, history, and art. I read several books a week. Other books I enjoy: The Twilight series, Harry Potter series, The Hunger Games series.
What advice do you have for aspiring writers?
Write and write.
Live life.
Get involved with people. Don’t isolate yourself.
Love to do research.
Explore ideas.
Read several books a week in a variety of subjects.
Be responsible to yourself and your family. They are more important than your “art”.
Don’t drink or take drugs.
Travel.
Balance time on the keyboard with physical activity.
Give of yourself.
Find a spiritual or ethical base you can work from.
Read other poets.
Learn another language.
Transform yourself as you age: Become who you were at the instant of creation.
Transform ideas and feelings into written images.
Think. Brood. Enjoy.
Visit the main library of every place you travel to.
Ask questions of local people. Start to find out about others this way.
Find out who you are when you’re not in your usual environment.
Don’t be afraid to cross out words or whole poems. Edit ruthlessly.
Encourage your dreams but be your harshest literary critic.
Support yourself emotionally on your life journey. Find a friend to help, too.
Get some cool writing implements if you like that kind of stuff, like a great pen and some excellent paper or a journal.
Learn how to make your own books or paper. Its fun.
If you don’t feel like writing, don’t. Don’t beat yourself up over a dry period.
Go to some writing classes/workshops, or create your own with a group of local writers.
Join a book club.
What personal challenges do you face?
I have MS. It makes it hard for me to walk. Since it’s gotten worse, I can’t travel anymore. I used to love to travel to other places and see how people lived. Now I have trouble traveling even 25 miles. Everyone ends up with some physical or mental/emotional challenge in life. I’m glad I can still write and explore worlds via my imagination.
What did you major in at the university?
I majored in English with an endorsement in Secondary Education and minors in Art and Spanish. I received my Master of Arts Degree in Creative Writing. I taught high school and college level classes. I also worked for the Artist in the Schools program, the Washington State Council for the Humanities as a speaker, and tutored sick and troubled kids for the Everett School District.
What awards have you won?
My book of poems, ‘at the helm of twilight” (Broken Moon Press, 1992), won the Washington State Writer’s Award and the Bumbershoot/Weyerhaeuser Award. I also won a GAP award, which funded my research trip to visit Mexico. I used the research for another book, “Throwing fire at the Sun, water at the Moon” (U of AZ press, 2000).
Here is a copy of the poem:
The Girl Who Loved the Sky
By: Anita Endrezze
Outside the second grade room,
the jacaranda tree blossomed
into purple lanterns, the papery petals
drifted, darkening the windows.
Inside, the room smelled like glue.
The desks were made of yellowed wood,
the tops littered with eraser rubbings,
rulers, and big fat pencils.
Colored chalk meant special days.
The walls were covered with precise
bright tulips and charts with shiny stars
by certain names. There, I learned
how to make butter by shaking a jar
until the pale cream clotted
into one sweet mass. There, I learned
that numbers were fractious beasts
with dens like dim zeros. And there,
I met a blind girl who thought the sky
tasted like cold metal when it rained
and whose eyes were always covered
with the bruised petals of her lids.
She loved the formless sky, defined
only by sounds, or the cool umbrellas
of clouds. On hot, still days
we listened to the sky falling
like chalk dust. We heard the noon
whistle of the pig-mash factory,
smelled the sourness of home-bound men.
I had no father; she had no eyes;
we were best friends. The other girls
drew shaky hopscotch squares
on the dusty asphalt, talked about
pajama parties, weekend cookouts,
and parents who bought sleek-finned cars
Alone, we sat in the canvas swings,
our shoes digging into the sand, then pushing,
until we flew high over their heads,
our hands streaked with red rust
from the chains that kept us safe.
I was born blind, she said, an act of nature.
Sure, I thought, like birds born
without wings, trees without roots.
I didn’t understand. The day she moved
I saw the world clearly: the sky
backed away from me like a departing father.
I sat under the jacaranda, catching
the petals in my palm, enclosing them
until my fist was another lantern
hiding a small and bitter flame.