Remembering Soléi Spears
On April 5, 2021, Soléi Spears, her sister Chlöe Spears, and their mother Rasheeda Barzey were tragically killed in their home. Soléi is described as a ray of light by everyone who knew her. She was a kind and passionate soul who was not scared to stand up for what she believed in. Her mark on the Baruch College community will not be forgotten. We don’t usually feature poems here at REFRACT Magazine, but for Soléi, we want to make an exception. She was a beautiful writer and we want to extend her platform in hopes that more people may be touched by her work. Featured here are her poems “Homecoming,” “To the Mountains of El Yunque,” and “To all my fellow Afro-Borinquens and to Miguel especially.” May Soléi’s light forever shine on and may she remind us to always put our all into the things we love.
Images from the memorial held for Soléi and her family on May 15, 2021.
Read more here.
Homecoming
Death in the ways I see it, I know it, I meet it is all so selfish.
I can never be selfless whenever it's present.
It's the loss of the physical body but a return to the spiritual home so they see it
But the only thing I've ever known in this lifetime, in my being, was the tangible.
I am grounded in the things I can hold.
So if I can't touch you, can't see you, can't hear you, can't hold you, what are you to me?
Faced with loss I must try to comprehend, adjust, and mend with the thought:
"people are not meant to be possessed but experienced".
But if I could just experience your smile one more time I'll wear it as mine,
to hear your laugh and play it for the thousandth time
or just a moment with us both again
I’Il fill that up to the brim and never have to fear that I'll forget you.
“Death is a selfish thing” and I can't be selfless.
But to you it's a homegoing. I must walk in this truth-fully knowing
That you and I have welcomed love's final stage.
A realm where you will transcend every space and surpass the bounds of the physical.
You don't just exist.
You are.
You have returned to the stars and are one with the sun.
Poems about Puerto Rico
To the mountains of El Yunque
You remind me of the Maroons of Jamaica, though the Taino spirits belong to you and call you home.
On this rock-with my steel-toe boots planted firmly on your earth-I sit beside Mariposa
I overlook the landslides, the maze of palm trees, the congregation of butterflies, and the hidden choirs of coquís
My eyes-overwhelmed by your beauty-can't possibly encapture all that you are. My ears try to take in every sound and creak from afar
All just to be present in a moment with all that is your presence
Every breath that is taken is a humbling one, knowing that everything you see here is bigger than me.
Simply put, this is the realization that God, the higher power, the Universe, whatever you wish to call its name-created this, El Yunque and created you, all in the same frame
To all my fellow Afro-Borinquens and to Miguel especially
Thank you for reminding me that the me's of the world don't end at the corners of New York, nor at the confines of my mind. Blackness, though I knew but never seen with my own eyes, is a global phenomenon. A people: one boat, several stops. This is the universal truth.
From the kinks and coils of my hair to the richness of my skin, I saw myself in la isla y tú. We are kin. Maybe that is why when we first met on your farm, we couldn't help but to stare at one another-both amazed, but too shy to speak to each other. Español o inglés-the language barrier was evident, but that didn’t stop you from telling me I looked just like your neice. You smiled and said, "y ella es bonita como tú". From then you remembered me as your brown-skin girl and you were my distant tió.
You saw home in my brown eyes as I did in yours. We are kin(dered) spirits of the cousin islands Puerto Rico y Haití, we speak in diaspora, and move in bomba; now united once again, this time 'cause of my free-will and 'cause of this trip.