Under the Saman Tree: Book Launch Day and Preview

Poems on Home, Longing, and Belonging by Rosa Lia Gilbert

Something to Celebrate

Today is an exceptionally important day for

Rosa Lía Gilbert

and www.TheWayBack2Ourselves.com, as we launch her debut poetry collection, Under the Saman Tree, with our publishing imprint The Way Back Books. This is our third book published this year, following my second poetry collection, Exalted Ground, and the Spring Collection of The Way Back to Ourselves Literary Journal: In His Garden, both of which were bestsellers in multiple categories on Amazon. We have no doubt Rosa’s stunning bilingual collection will do the same!

So, to celebrate

Rosa Lía Gilbert

’s book baby’s birthday, Rosa has graciously shared three poems from her collection below, along with some behind-the-scenes about her collection and story. Please enjoy this gorgeous offering and purchase her book for yourself and a loved one.

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LONGING FOR HOME

My poetry collection begins with a tender and distinct longing: the longing for home and a deep desire to return to the only home I have ever known—the Dominican Republic. The first chapter of this group of poems, Longing for Home, follows my journey through the immigration process and the complex feelings that accompanied it: displacement, fear, love, and homesickness. This intimate preview poem I share with you, The Color Green, touches on all of those things—remembering love for my home country, falling in love with a foreigner (who would become my husband), and my eventual realization that the beginning of a new life would be required to nurture and legitimize our newfound love.

THE COLOR GREEN 
 
Green 
was the color of your hoodie 
in the first picture you ever sent. 
A color so familiar to me—
like rice paddies early in their growth, 
melting into Dominican farmland,
painting our fields lime, 
juice squeezed straight from the sky
to give them a rich hue. 
 
Did you know that if you stare at them 
long enough, they look like one lush rug?
And did I ever tell you how (sometimes), 
as a child, I’d wonder what it’d feel like to lie 
on them, fall asleep among their verdant vegetation?
 
They always looked so inviting, so full of life. 
But I don’t have time to think of such things now 
that I’m a woman, fallen in love with you. 
Now, I think of other green things. 
I think of how you won my heart over, 
made it triple in size like a ripe avocado. 
Turned it verde verde verde: el color de la esperanza.
The color of hope. 
 
I think of my new life shooting up— 
a palm tree on foreign soil. 
I think of her, the fruit we bore, 
sweet like a green guava ready to be picked.
 
I think of green cards and immigration 
and all the green dollar bills spent to convince this land of our love—
that it is not the kind that withers— 
that it is alive, que está vivo.
Evergreen.

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REMEMBERING HOME

My collection’s second chapter, Remembering Home, takes my readers back to the Dominican Republic. Here, I dwell in the remembrance of a place I once called home, one I seek to share in the most embodied way possible—giving loving attention to the colors, flora, fauna, and very specific way of being that is living in the Dominican Republic. Most of my poems in this section are vibrant and full of tropical life. Others drip with nostalgia and how it often, though sad, can infuse joy in those who are homesick. The preview poem, Bird Photography, follows me on an adventure with my dad, who is a photographer, to showcase how even the simplest of memories prove to have been a sort of preparation for the departure that was to come for me.

BIRD PHOTOGRAPHY LESSONS 
 
“Be still. 
Be quiet,” you say
as you play 
the mating tune 
of the Papagayo. 
 
I learned to wait here first—
waiting for the birds with you 
and your long lens,
always at the ready 
to point, shoot, and capture 
wings mid-flight
or tiny bird’s feet perched 
on native tree branches. 
 
We’d get upset
when they would stand us up—
leaving us hungry 
for a glimpse at their decadence. 
The birds were busy 
being beautiful. Flying. 
We were busy waiting
for their return. 
 
I learned to wait here—
but also, to fly. 
To pick up wind 
between teal feathers, 
spread them wide 
toward the sky.
  
Now, I am both: 
the bird that soars far off and away
and the one that rests its wings  
and stays. 

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MY WAY HOME

The last chapter in my collection, My Way Home, is the most recent leg of my journey, as I grow as a woman, wife, mother, and believer and come to terms with my new life. It is true: I will always love where I come from, and I will always ache to return to my homeland, but ultimately, I have come to understand my truer country, as C.S. Lewis said, which is my home: mi verdadero hogar—or elsewhere. I am not there yet, but I am on my way. In the meantime, no matter where I find myself, there are gifts that follow me everywhere: memories, great love, my husband and daughter, to name just a few. The preview poem, The Color Blue, is a follow-up of sorts to The Color Green. In this poem, I reminisce on origins and family, while celebrating new beginnings and new loves—and the vast horizon extends out before me.

THE COLOR BLUE
 
They say one of the first things a newborn sees 
are their mother’s eyes. 
Los de mi madre are deep blue.
Larimar gemstones 
carved onto a human face. 
 
Early on in life, I learned 
the way they become kaleidoscopes 
when rays pool on them 
and how they sparkle,
like water touched 
by the tropical sun. 
 
I used to pray 
God would send his hand 
down from heaven 
to touch my brown eyes in my sleep
and that I would wake 
to orbs of Caribbean Sea
underneath my eyelids. 
 
God answered my prayer.
Differently, 
as he usually does. 
Gave me two loves,
mi esposo y mi hija,
with oceans in their eyes, 
so I could swim in them 
whenever my island
is too far away. 

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AN INVITATION

If you enjoyed this generous preview from

Rosa Lía Gilbert

and The Way Back Books, we’d love for you to SHARE THIS POST, GIVE IT A HEART, and most kindly, BUY UNDER THE SAMAN TREE for yourself and a loved one.

AUTHOR SPOTLIGHT

Rosa Lía Gilbert is a believer, wife, mother, and poet. Her work has been published in Fare Forward, Inkwell, America Magazine, and Prosetrics Literary Magazine, among others. She was born and raised in the Dominican Republic but now lives in Washington, alongside her husband and three-year-old daughter. Whenever she’s not juggling family life, she is writing bilingual poems on whatever piece of paper she can find. She considers herself to be a hope-filled and sojourn-minded poet. Rosa was formerly part of the Calla Press Publishing team as their publishing assistant and has recently stepped into a new role at Vessels of Light Literary Journal as their Spanish poetry translator and assistant editor. She has also been selected as a fellow for Christianity Today’s Young Storytellers Fellowship. You can find Rosa’s writing on her Substack newsletter, In Light of Eternity, as well as her Instagram @rosagilbertpoetry.