Agua Santa: Holy Water

Originally published with Beacon Press in 1995 (with this book cover), Chicana writer and El Paso native Pat Mora’s fourth book of poems was reprinted this fall through the University of Arizona Press. I’m hoping that it will also reprint the follow-up volume, published in 1997, Aunt Carmen’s Book of Practical Saints, which included a handful of glorious color photographs of religious pieces from the Museum of International Folk Art in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Just as this second project is an examination of the influence of Catholicism in the colonized Southwest, Agua Santa: Holy Water, is a look at the presence of pre and post-Columbian culture and mythology, which continues to thrive in the literary imagination of Chicana letters.

The highlight of the book is without question the “Quarteto Mexicano.” Subtitled: “Talk Show Interviews with Coatlicue the Aztec Goddess, Malinche the Maligned, the Virgin of Guadalupe and La Llorona: The Wailer,” the fierce foursome is a celebration of the dark goddesses—Mexican figures that have been imprisoned inside the symbols of (respectively) destruction, betrayal, saintliness and errant motherhood. Mora, like many Chicana writers, have attempted to re-imagine and empower these archetypes, rescuing them from the misogynist representations. Indeed, complexity is essential. In her quarteto, Malinche offers the following tip:
Beware
historians citing
only themselves.
But, mis hijas e hijos,
you live. I’m the proud
mother of mexicanos,
brown as I am.
Conceptions happen,
remember? But,
the blesséd fruit
of my womb spits my name.
I hear
prostitute, puta, hooker, bitch.
Try saying mamá.
Besides the Aztec/Nahuatl traditions, Mora also weaves into this tapestry of language and struggle the culture of the Maya (from both Chiapas and Honduras), of other oppressed Central American and American Indian indigenous groups, and of the mestizos of the Americas (including Chicanas/Chicanos). Of note is the poem “La Migra,” a two-part narrative that challenges the reader to identify with the Border Patrol officer and with the undocumented bordercrosser.
Without romanticizing or idealizing, the tone throughout this book does lean toward the spiritual, toward the strength of prayer and healing, rather than to the negative power of indictment and accusation. This does not mean Mora’s politics is middle-of-the-fence; she’s unequivocally pro-woman, pro-raza. When push comes to shove, says La Llorona, “Sometimes raising the voice does get attention.”
Mora is also a much-beloved author of children’s picture books, and her activism has focused more passionately on the bilingual literacy of children. Her illustrated books are issued in both English and Spanish, and she is the founder and ardent promoter of that wonderful program El Día de los Niños, El Día de los Libros, which seeks to educate young and old alike about the joys of reading, and the benefits to reading in two languages.
I’d like to thank Pat Mora for being such an amazing role model for citizen poets, and for being such a tireless champion of books, book people, and Chicano letters. ¡Que viva la maestra!