This is Home: Haiti (A “Where I’m from” poem)

Wed, 12/11/2013 - 14:37 -- Prina

If I said I was from the small island of Hispaniola, where life is always difficult, but freedom is something we all have, would you know where I’m from?


Where I’m from, everyone wake up to the sound of roasters’ cuckoo doodle, in the dawn of morning, as the voisines (neighbors) next door receive their water from the gully to start the day.


Where I’m from, killing somebody is like nothing ever happen. Polices can do whatever they feel like.  There is no law or constitution.


Where I’m from, freedom runs around barefoot. It’s drinking sweet coconut water on a breezy afternoon; feeling the sensation of relieve. Freedom is no tax, mortgage or utility bills.


Where I’m from, a child cries, “maman, je faim,” and the mother looks at her child with sorrow in her eyes yet strike the child for saying he is hungry; because she knows he knows there is no food.


Where I’m from, the grand-mound (adult) sit around to pale (talk) just as the sun run west; while the children jouer (play) ‘la go cache’ (hide and seek) and shout from the top of their lungs, “ou Pa ka caché m.”(You cannot catch me.)


Where I’m from, as soon as the sun hides, you can see every single star in the sky; twinkling like expensive piece of diamond. Everything is still and serene expect for the cicadas and crickets that can’t seem to sleep. The dark embrace the world with dread, there is not a single light that can illuminate this unfortunate paradise as most of us known as “HAITI”.

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