Oh, all that is dear to me
When day by day
Each path this pilgrim crossed
Yielded naught but vast unending vistas
Of a blasted wound torn deep
By that unspeakable explosive cataclysm
Of titanic primeval fury
That raged across your gentle mien
I saw your Star of David shattered!
Our works flung far into the timeless seas
Of some ancient destiny cloaked in doom
...And heart in hand
I wept my anguish to a wind
That only days gone by
Had kissed my eyes and whispered...welcome home...
Like one insane I plunged into the foam
At ocean's edge where hours fled
Gulls played, and children too
Had lifted pink-encrusted conch to lips
To sound a man's return
For those who braved your seas for food;
...And I remembered it all:
Anglais, Tros Pitons, Micotrin
And misty mornings on the bouldered Boeri shores
Where you and I alone would watch
The ancient ritual of dawn unfold
Your peaks where sweet-voiced silence
Yielded naught but clear sweet draughts of self
And echoes blessed the souflier's haunted song;
The honeyed mistfresh wines
From sparkling brooks that hymned your virgin soils
And gleefully kissed our toes-
How often did I yield my back against your trees
And hallowed thus within the bosom of your joy
Would give myself to you...
Oh, 'NICA, oh, my love!
That eve when we beheld a shattered face,
When heart then failed to melt?
Stripped of hope nor solace left,
Your poets took themselves to task
And those whose vision plunged
To where illusion cannot come to pass
Saw seeping waves of bliss
Engulf their treasure land;
A sacred fragrance graced the air
And in that timeless moment of your dawn,
The darkness fell
And slowly crumbled under the morning sun...
By Anthony Toulon