Long ago, during my high school years, the concept of “first love” was still foreign to me. So, when I first encountered Shakespeare’s sonnet, Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?, it wasn’t the romantic undertones that captivated me. No specific person came to mind as I read it in class. While the imagery was undoubtedly beautiful, it was the poem’s bold declaration of immortality in its final lines that truly resonated.
Even as a sophomore, I grasped the idea that art, particularly literature, could transcend time, achieving a form of eternity by connecting with readers across generations. However, this particular poem introduced me to literature that explicitly claimed immortality not just for itself, but also for its subject. It declared this enduring life not just to the reader, but directly to the subject of the poem itself:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
The subject, whether woman or man, beautifully portrayed through metaphor, is memorialized and, in doing so, given immeasurable worth. I was utterly captivated. My own experiences as an impoverished, queer, Mexican immigrant growing up in Reagan’s America felt largely absent from mainstream culture. Media portrayals, church teachings, and classroom discussions rarely reflected my reality. Even when aspects of my identity were acknowledged, such as the few media representations of gay men, it was often overshadowed by the terrifying shadow of a new epidemic. This reality created significant challenges – a life lived on the fringes, often unseen – which gradually eroded my sense of self-worth.
Yet, within this poem, I discovered a spark, a turning point, a new beginning. The concluding couplet, both melancholic and celebratory, simultaneously acknowledged mortality and defied it. It revealed the power of language to bestow value and, in doing so, to render someone beautiful.
Many more beginnings and first experiences would follow in the years to come, eventually culminating and inspiring me to write my own poems – poems that were initially deeply personal. My reasons for writing are multifaceted, but the initial impetus was to give voice to what had been neglected, abandoned, forgotten, or never acknowledged in the first place. I write because, through language, I strive to transform pain and ugliness into beauty, recognizing the universal within the intensely personal. This transformative process, this glorious alchemy of words, remains my driving force.
