Life in the West Indies

Island rhythms carry on,

Lifting my soul

As if it were some leaf

To be carried on

gentle winds.

“I feel good”

Fills my ears,

Inflating a wide eyed grin

That would bury any symptoms of depression.


Hot white sand

And transparent waters –

A fecundity credited for its healing property –

Is getting into the grooves of my sole.


As I rock to the left,

The irie dread appears in

the mist that caresses my face.

And when I rock to the right,

That same mist catches my troubles

And carries them on

To be lost at sea.


A life so coveted,

An opportunity so rare,

It makes me glad,


To know I’d been there.

This poem is about: 
My country


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