To give and be given to

I do believe in the power of given names.

Like inevitable compasses,
they inflate old meanings to new organs and bodies.

Take a look at my grandma´s name:
Maria das Dores
Which in English translates to: "Mary of the pains" or "Mary of the sorrows".
At a first glimpse,
a feeling of primal injustice.
Because once a name is given it can't really be taken back.

Maria has a laughter so innocent and powerful,

amplified by its scarcity.
She takes her name seriously.
Perhaps there is nothing light about pain,
So how could she be less serious?
You can list the sorrows (lists are the ultimate lucky charms).
Child labor.
No personal freedom.
A life of poverty.
An unhappy marriage.
A slow, steady and painful degenerative disease.
The agony of a woman once strong and now forever dependent.
A name can in fact be either a blessing or an injustice!
Sometimes her name gets me so angry!
I get easily inflamed at those catholic names,
and their obsession with suffering and punishment!
Because I strongly believe in the power of names!
When a name is cast upon us,
We get in line with an infinite lineage of human experience.
Names are like boxes.
A taxonomic arrangement of life paths and possibilities.
The original trap you can flourish into.
Look at me.
My name is Denise.
From my grandma I inherited my eyes and my smile.

But that is genetics and mimicry.

Gods (or whoever influences parents in the baptism of their offspring) decided my pains would be of a different kind.
Denise: priestess and worshiper of Dionysus, greek God of wine,
fertility, ecstasy and performance.
I was luckily awarded into an older lineage of crazy bitches!
Warning number one: This is what parents get when they allow strangers to decide on their children's names.
Do I need to explain more?
On why I do believe in the power of given names?
Power travels through names.
My power being then both fertility and madness.

Warning number two: 
This poem will from now on become an attempt to re-write the past!

My name, an ointment, to bring soothing to my grandma's pains.

Dear Grandma,

Seeing you in your bed

I convert it in a throne
where all your past glory
shines.
You are not stranded,
but immortalised,
as a statue
like a proper goddess.
Your strength and seriousness,
Your desire for respect,
I grant them to you, through pleasures of the mind and the flesh.
That marriage you resent,
I warn you,
was a blessing in disguise.
I re-write and weave your past as a true priestess of Dionysus.
His joy,
even when found through sipping and pouring bottles of magic
liquor,
brought sunshine through your given name,
as the sun rays when they cut the forest through the trees.
There is no shame in the flesh, only if he didn't make it last
until with a restless breath you felt ecstasy.
I hope you did.
I demand you did.
Because pain can only be meaningful
when contrasted with Joy and pleasure!
I used to think I knew it all,
about happiness and things alike
but that is merely the illusion of youth.
I make a toast to you and through you,
And bless your body, a temple forever green and growing.
You, the greatest performer of all.
Through camouflage you subverted your destiny.
A glass to you, higher and higher, my love.
In your sorrows my cups.
In my madness your compass and solidity.
To the power of names we raise!

To give and be given to by Denise Pereira is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.