Villanueva


 THE FUNCTION OF POETRY



 What must the function of Caribbean poetry during the
 1980s and 90s be? Behind this question there are two
 premises: (1) that there is a poetry which can be
 identified as "Caribbean"; (2) that poetry has or must
 have a function. Both are premises that should be
 explored in depth, and even perhaps discarded. However,
 let me go along and say that because I was born in a
 Caribbean island my poetry is "Caribbean," and that it
 does have a function. If anything, I was born in an
 occupied territory with a history of internalized
 oppression; one function of my poetry, then, must be
 exposing not only the relationship between invaders and
 invaded but also the ways by which the invaded have
 accepted invasion and internalized their own vassal
 status. So, Caribbean poetry must be political--and go
 beyond politics to serve as a critique of the victimizer
 as well as of the willing victim. This, I realize, will
 not make me any more popular among the latter, but my
 commitment is to my perception of reality, not to
 cultural mystifications of history and national character.
 The very fact, though, that I employ the oppressor's
 language may constitute an act of bad faith; the use to
 which I put it--the creation of a counter/discourse--
 justifies me.

 Poetry creates universals out of particulars. Thus,
I am moved by and identify with a Nineteenth Century
American poet who speaks with my voice--and there occurs
an abolition of time and space leading to a renewed
vision of what she and I and others have in common.
That is also my goal; from my time and my space to speak
with the voice and the thoughts of others, but with the
Caribbean heat and color and intensity which shape my
being. This may sound trite; nevertheless, I maintain
that those geographical factors are portable states of
the soul which even now, in the midst of winter, in the
land of exiles, sustain me. So, Caribbean poetry of the
80s and 90s must help those who feel but cannot express
feelings--many of them trapped in the hell of migration
--to find the voice they lack, not the social, but the
personal, intimate voice. It must help them preserve
ties, exorcise longings and fears and celebrate joys.


Alfredo Villanueva Collado