Poem: "When You Learn to Read"
Apr. 22nd, 2026 12:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ysabetwordsmithThis poem is spillover from the August 5, 2025 Poetry Fishbowl. It was inspired by prompts from dialecticdreamer, rix_scaedu, and jake67jake. It also fills the "Somebody at the Door" square in my 8-1-25 card for the Crime Classics Bingo fest. This poem has been sponsored by janetmiles. It belongs to the Big One thread of the Polychrome Heroics series. It is the second in a triptych, between "Where You Find Light" and "No Faster or Firmer Friendships."
"When You Learn to Read"
[Monday, June 13, 2016]
Josué parked his bike and
then bounded up the steps
of the big, bright pink house,
already looking forward to
the afternoon's activities.
Casa de Esperanza
had quickly become
one of his favorite places.
He had enjoyed helping
to clean, decorate, and
landscape it so much that
Aidan had encouraged him
to visit the new residents
for practicing languages.
One nice thing about
Avery was that the town
was so tiny he could bike
anywhere in it and also lots
of the places on the outskirts,
like here in Hathaway Pines.
Josué knocked on the door,
and a minute later it opened.
"Good morning, Josué, thank you
for coming," said Mr. Sanon. "It's just
us right now, since everyone else is out
shopping or dealing with paperwork."
"I'm happy to help," said Josué. He
really was. Most of the new residents
were Hispanic, but the Sanons were
Haitian like himself. Mr. Sanon knew
Hatian Creole and French as well as
English, so Josué could practice too.
They went into the living room,
which held a corner couch and
a couple of mismatched chairs.
Aidan had made bookcases
to hold a bunch of books in
English, French, Haitian Creole,
Spanish, and a few other languages.
The unexpected library now ran
along part of the wall between
the living room and kitchen, plus
a few other bookcases as well.
That was a good thing, because
the mainstream schools were
struggling to keep up with all of
the refugees -- and it was still
just summer school season,
not the actual school year.
So everyone who could teach
things or issue certificates was
offering classes or volunteering
to do story hour or whatever.
Mrs. Sanon rounded up the kids
and brought them into the living room.
She put the four boys on the couch
and the two girls on the loveseat
with her, but that was a snug fit
since her pregnancy meant she
was starting to run out of lap.
Then she tried to put Josué
in the striped chair, which okay,
was next to most of the books,
but he still wasn't having that.
Josué parked himself firmly
on the couch with the other boys.
"Family matters," he said. "I enjoy
coming here and I enjoy being with
other folks like me." He repeated it
in Haitian Creole, since Mrs. Sanon
knew that and French but she was
struggling to manage English.
She didn't try to move him.
Josué let the boys pick
which books to read.
Timafi was only two, and
based on past experiences
she was too little to care
what he read aloud, while
Edeline could rarely stay
quiet long enough for her
to hear whatever Josué
was attempting to read.
"Ronil, where shall we
start?" Josué asked.
The boy stared at him,
then muttered, "Same."
Ronil was suspicious of
people he didn't know, but
he seemed to like repetition.
"We did The Lion's Share
last time, so this time let's do
Icing on the Cake," said Josué.
"It's about English food idioms."
He read the English parts first,
then the Haitian Creole parts,
helping the children match up
the words in each language.
Besides, it taught Josué
a few new phrases too.
He'd been studying English
since he came to live with
Aidan, and he was okay at it
by now, but there were still
things that he didn't know.
"Kervin, your turn," said Josué.
"Do you have any requests?"
Kervin was an introvert
and didn't talk much.
He did, however, hand
Josué a book titled
Happy After All.
"Ah, this is about
coping with changes
and difficult feelings,"
said Josué. "Useful."
It was sweet and sad.
He had to clear his throat
a few times while reading it.
Vilsaint preferred reading
to himself and already had
a book, which was fine.
Hurby, the oldest boy,
was close to Josué's age.
He had a hard time reading
and needed lots of help,
but still enjoyed listening.
"Hurby, what book do you
want to hear?" said Josué.
Squinting at the books, Hurby
mouthed the words to himself
and then said, "Errol's Garden."
"That sounds fun," Josué said
as he picked it up. "Here, let's
use a bookmark to help us
follow the lines as we read."
He alternated between
reading the Haitian Creole
or the English half, and
inviting the kids to guess
what the other side said.
Sometimes Hurby had to put
his nose on the page to see
the words well enough, but he
was getting better at reading.
From what little Josué knew,
Hurby had gotten hurt during
Hurricane Sandy, which had
messed up his eyesight in
ways that weren't easy to fix.
Maybe a magnifying glass
would help. Josué would
have to bring one to find out.
Hurby sighed. "Reading is
hard, and I miss my friends."
"Yeah, that is hard," said Josué.
"When you learn to read you
will be born again, and you will
never be quite so alone again."
Edeline had finally calmed down
enough for Josué to try a new idea.
He held out three books and said,
"Let's explore a new place. Do
you want to read about Coral Reefs,
Deserts, or Tropical Rainforests?"
"Ooo, Deserts," Edeline said,
and tried to grab the book.
"If you want to hold this,
you'll need to sit closer so I
can see to read," said Josué.
Edeline dove off the loveseat
and then climbed into his lap,
reminding him of Saraphina.
Josué read the book, both in
Haitian Creole and in English,
inviting Edeline to make up
sounds for all the animals.
He was pretty sure that most
of those were nowhere near
what they sounded like, but
it made her happy and might
help her remember the names.
Mrs. Sanon didn't ask for
any particular book, but she
listened intently to whatever
Josué was reading at the time.
It was just easier to learn from
children's books anyway. They
were simpler, with clearer words.
Josué had learned that himself
when expanding what little he
knew of English when he arrived,
and still appreciated easy reading.
He had just finished a book and
was going to ask about the next
when a commotion came in the door.
The Bolivar family had returned from
their shopping trip, now laden with
the groceries and other supplies.
"Come help carry!" Loida called.
Josué hurried to help. He loved
the hustle and bustle of big families.
The Bolivar kids were all old enough
to help, at least a little bit, although
the youngest two -- Erasmo and
Rufina -- only carried a bag each.
Celso and Zaray had two bags,
while Yanira carried several.
Their parents Bosco and Loida
had taken the heaviest things.
Behind them came a teenage girl
that Josué didn't recognize with
an enormous package of toilet paper.
She must be one of the new residents;
refugees had been moving into and
sometimes out of the house for days.
Josué went out to check the van. He
found the cases of canned beans
and heaved one onto each shoulder.
Aidan had stocked the house with
staples, but mostly dry goods or
fresh produce. Canned beans
were heavier, but so convenient
when you needed to eat fast.
"Where do you want these?"
Josué asked as he came in.
"Pantry," Bosco said as he
pointed toward the door.
Josué put away the beans,
then returned to the kitchen.
By then, the van had been
emptied and everyone focused
on putting away all of the stuff.
Loida called out instructions
in a mix of Spanish and English,
with a lot of pointing for the Haitians
who didn't speak either of those well.
Josué helped translate, because
he knew where most things went.
As he put things away, he narrated
what he was doing for the children,
sometimes speaking in English,
other times in Haitian Creole.
He named the groceries
and described his actions
while the kids echoed him.
"Won't that confuse them,
switching back and forth
from one language to
another?" said Loida.
"Nah," said Josué. "In Haiti,
lots of kids grow up hearing
a mix of Haitian Creole, French,
sometimes Spanish or English,
and we figure it out just fine."
"Is that how you learned
English?" asked Loida.
"You speak it pretty well."
"Partly from my father,
and more once I got here,"
said Josué. "My -- my aunt
meant to teach me Spanish,
but we -- ran out of time for it."
The familiar wave of grief
rolled over him, making
Josué close his eyes and
then brace himself against
the kitchen counter briefly.
As Aidan had warned him,
it never went away, but like
a tsunami, the waves got
lower as time passed and
he worked on mourning.
A hand covered his,
making Josué look up.
"If you still want to learn
Spanish," Loida said kindly,
"I would be happy to teach you."
Josué missed Aunt Mirtha fiercely,
and Loida reminded him of her,
a little bit. There was no way
to get back his aunt or uncle or
cousins, but now he could make
connections with new people.
"Yes, please," said Josué.
"I think that I would like that."
"Good," said Loida. "We
can add that to our studies."
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its character (Part 1: Sanon Family, Part 2: Bolivar Family) and content notes appear separately.
dialecticdreamer, rix_scaedu, and jake67jake. It also fills the "Somebody at the Door" square in my 8-1-25 card for the Crime Classics Bingo fest. This poem has been sponsored by janetmiles. It belongs to the Big One thread of the Polychrome Heroics series. It is the second in a triptych, between "Where You Find Light" and "No Faster or Firmer Friendships.""When You Learn to Read"
[Monday, June 13, 2016]
Josué parked his bike and
then bounded up the steps
of the big, bright pink house,
already looking forward to
the afternoon's activities.
Casa de Esperanza
had quickly become
one of his favorite places.
He had enjoyed helping
to clean, decorate, and
landscape it so much that
Aidan had encouraged him
to visit the new residents
for practicing languages.
One nice thing about
Avery was that the town
was so tiny he could bike
anywhere in it and also lots
of the places on the outskirts,
like here in Hathaway Pines.
Josué knocked on the door,
and a minute later it opened.
"Good morning, Josué, thank you
for coming," said Mr. Sanon. "It's just
us right now, since everyone else is out
shopping or dealing with paperwork."
"I'm happy to help," said Josué. He
really was. Most of the new residents
were Hispanic, but the Sanons were
Haitian like himself. Mr. Sanon knew
Hatian Creole and French as well as
English, so Josué could practice too.
They went into the living room,
which held a corner couch and
a couple of mismatched chairs.
Aidan had made bookcases
to hold a bunch of books in
English, French, Haitian Creole,
Spanish, and a few other languages.
The unexpected library now ran
along part of the wall between
the living room and kitchen, plus
a few other bookcases as well.
That was a good thing, because
the mainstream schools were
struggling to keep up with all of
the refugees -- and it was still
just summer school season,
not the actual school year.
So everyone who could teach
things or issue certificates was
offering classes or volunteering
to do story hour or whatever.
Mrs. Sanon rounded up the kids
and brought them into the living room.
She put the four boys on the couch
and the two girls on the loveseat
with her, but that was a snug fit
since her pregnancy meant she
was starting to run out of lap.
Then she tried to put Josué
in the striped chair, which okay,
was next to most of the books,
but he still wasn't having that.
Josué parked himself firmly
on the couch with the other boys.
"Family matters," he said. "I enjoy
coming here and I enjoy being with
other folks like me." He repeated it
in Haitian Creole, since Mrs. Sanon
knew that and French but she was
struggling to manage English.
She didn't try to move him.
Josué let the boys pick
which books to read.
Timafi was only two, and
based on past experiences
she was too little to care
what he read aloud, while
Edeline could rarely stay
quiet long enough for her
to hear whatever Josué
was attempting to read.
"Ronil, where shall we
start?" Josué asked.
The boy stared at him,
then muttered, "Same."
Ronil was suspicious of
people he didn't know, but
he seemed to like repetition.
"We did The Lion's Share
last time, so this time let's do
Icing on the Cake," said Josué.
"It's about English food idioms."
He read the English parts first,
then the Haitian Creole parts,
helping the children match up
the words in each language.
Besides, it taught Josué
a few new phrases too.
He'd been studying English
since he came to live with
Aidan, and he was okay at it
by now, but there were still
things that he didn't know.
"Kervin, your turn," said Josué.
"Do you have any requests?"
Kervin was an introvert
and didn't talk much.
He did, however, hand
Josué a book titled
Happy After All.
"Ah, this is about
coping with changes
and difficult feelings,"
said Josué. "Useful."
It was sweet and sad.
He had to clear his throat
a few times while reading it.
Vilsaint preferred reading
to himself and already had
a book, which was fine.
Hurby, the oldest boy,
was close to Josué's age.
He had a hard time reading
and needed lots of help,
but still enjoyed listening.
"Hurby, what book do you
want to hear?" said Josué.
Squinting at the books, Hurby
mouthed the words to himself
and then said, "Errol's Garden."
"That sounds fun," Josué said
as he picked it up. "Here, let's
use a bookmark to help us
follow the lines as we read."
He alternated between
reading the Haitian Creole
or the English half, and
inviting the kids to guess
what the other side said.
Sometimes Hurby had to put
his nose on the page to see
the words well enough, but he
was getting better at reading.
From what little Josué knew,
Hurby had gotten hurt during
Hurricane Sandy, which had
messed up his eyesight in
ways that weren't easy to fix.
Maybe a magnifying glass
would help. Josué would
have to bring one to find out.
Hurby sighed. "Reading is
hard, and I miss my friends."
"Yeah, that is hard," said Josué.
"When you learn to read you
will be born again, and you will
never be quite so alone again."
Edeline had finally calmed down
enough for Josué to try a new idea.
He held out three books and said,
"Let's explore a new place. Do
you want to read about Coral Reefs,
Deserts, or Tropical Rainforests?"
"Ooo, Deserts," Edeline said,
and tried to grab the book.
"If you want to hold this,
you'll need to sit closer so I
can see to read," said Josué.
Edeline dove off the loveseat
and then climbed into his lap,
reminding him of Saraphina.
Josué read the book, both in
Haitian Creole and in English,
inviting Edeline to make up
sounds for all the animals.
He was pretty sure that most
of those were nowhere near
what they sounded like, but
it made her happy and might
help her remember the names.
Mrs. Sanon didn't ask for
any particular book, but she
listened intently to whatever
Josué was reading at the time.
It was just easier to learn from
children's books anyway. They
were simpler, with clearer words.
Josué had learned that himself
when expanding what little he
knew of English when he arrived,
and still appreciated easy reading.
He had just finished a book and
was going to ask about the next
when a commotion came in the door.
The Bolivar family had returned from
their shopping trip, now laden with
the groceries and other supplies.
"Come help carry!" Loida called.
Josué hurried to help. He loved
the hustle and bustle of big families.
The Bolivar kids were all old enough
to help, at least a little bit, although
the youngest two -- Erasmo and
Rufina -- only carried a bag each.
Celso and Zaray had two bags,
while Yanira carried several.
Their parents Bosco and Loida
had taken the heaviest things.
Behind them came a teenage girl
that Josué didn't recognize with
an enormous package of toilet paper.
She must be one of the new residents;
refugees had been moving into and
sometimes out of the house for days.
Josué went out to check the van. He
found the cases of canned beans
and heaved one onto each shoulder.
Aidan had stocked the house with
staples, but mostly dry goods or
fresh produce. Canned beans
were heavier, but so convenient
when you needed to eat fast.
"Where do you want these?"
Josué asked as he came in.
"Pantry," Bosco said as he
pointed toward the door.
Josué put away the beans,
then returned to the kitchen.
By then, the van had been
emptied and everyone focused
on putting away all of the stuff.
Loida called out instructions
in a mix of Spanish and English,
with a lot of pointing for the Haitians
who didn't speak either of those well.
Josué helped translate, because
he knew where most things went.
As he put things away, he narrated
what he was doing for the children,
sometimes speaking in English,
other times in Haitian Creole.
He named the groceries
and described his actions
while the kids echoed him.
"Won't that confuse them,
switching back and forth
from one language to
another?" said Loida.
"Nah," said Josué. "In Haiti,
lots of kids grow up hearing
a mix of Haitian Creole, French,
sometimes Spanish or English,
and we figure it out just fine."
"Is that how you learned
English?" asked Loida.
"You speak it pretty well."
"Partly from my father,
and more once I got here,"
said Josué. "My -- my aunt
meant to teach me Spanish,
but we -- ran out of time for it."
The familiar wave of grief
rolled over him, making
Josué close his eyes and
then brace himself against
the kitchen counter briefly.
As Aidan had warned him,
it never went away, but like
a tsunami, the waves got
lower as time passed and
he worked on mourning.
A hand covered his,
making Josué look up.
"If you still want to learn
Spanish," Loida said kindly,
"I would be happy to teach you."
Josué missed Aunt Mirtha fiercely,
and Loida reminded him of her,
a little bit. There was no way
to get back his aunt or uncle or
cousins, but now he could make
connections with new people.
"Yes, please," said Josué.
"I think that I would like that."
"Good," said Loida. "We
can add that to our studies."
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its character (Part 1: Sanon Family, Part 2: Bolivar Family) and content notes appear separately.
(no subject)
Date: 2026-04-22 10:11 pm (UTC)Thank you!
Date: 2026-04-22 10:28 pm (UTC)Yay!
>> He's good people. <<
He really is. Tragedy makes some people meaner, and other people kinder.
>> And far better with children than I am.<<
Better than me too. He grew up in a large extended family -- I think there were over 40 in the beginning -- and he desperately misses that.