I am Joaquin is an epic poem written by Rodolfo Corky Gonzales. There were a number of things that stuck out to me instantly from a first glance at this piece. First and foremost, it’s size is respectably large, with well over 400 lines throughout the entire piece, and only two stanzas. Despite the apparent vastness of it, however, I couldn’t help but notice that the individual lines within the piece were very irregular. There are some lines that stretch almost the entirety of the page, yet at the same time I specifically remember an entire line completely devoted to the word “I.” and there are a number of other single-word lines scattered throughout the piece.
Honestly, I spent a great deal of time, probably more time than I should have, trying to discern why Gonzales chose to design his poem with such bizarre line breaks. What is significant about the word “I” or the word “And” that makes it so special that he could not just tack it onto the line before or after? I ran through a number of hypotheses in my head, ranging from the importance of the statement in the lines, whether or not lines were broken based on their relativity to his own person (again, inconsistent), and I eventually settled on the idea that he was just an individual kind-of guy who breaks lines wherever, and whenever he feels like it, and good luck to all of us who try to decipher why.
However, after taking something of a break from the piece, I decided to eat some Top Ramen. As I was eating said Top Ramen, I glanced towards my desk, where I had left the piece, and noticed that the words on the page (page 4 I believed) looked like a Totem Pole. It took me some seconds to fully realize this epiphany, and I grabbed the piece, flipping through the pages to notice, yes indeed: the various line breaks all make some-sort of design that somewhat resembles Mesoamerican art. Whether or not this is a coincidence from a combination of the pages I got being written in center text (for whatever reason) and my own overactive imagination, or if it was actually something that Gonzales had planned all along, I found it to be an interesting find, and am interested to see if any of the shapes I see in the page actually correlate any sort-of meaning.
Strange geometrical aspects aside, I find the actual lyrical connotation of the piece to be something of a call to arms to other Mexican Americans, to be more precise, to remember the glory of their ancestors (Chiefs and Kings) and to strive again for that same glory, and prominence that was stripped from them. I find the examples of this theme throughout the piece to be obvious with scornful depictions of the ways in which their land has been taken from them, how they as a people have been enslaved (“I have survived the toils of slavery in the fields”), and in the way that he regards Europeans throughout the piece overall. Another thing I noticed was his usage of prominent figures throughout the history of central America, from the great Aztec king Cuauhtémoc, to Pancho Villa. He, in a sense, juxtaposes the idea of the great Aztec nation of ancient times with more modern tales of Mexican heroism and pride. In this, it becomes less about pride of the indigenous blooded people of Mexico, but more prideful of the accomplishments of the Mexican nation as a whole. Regardless of how one looks at it, however, it is a very obvious portrayal of Mexican pride, and a cry to other Mexicans to fight, and reshape their lives into something better.
(Word Count: 625)
