The Vengeance of Gods and Spirits
Poseidon is getting back his own
for land deprived of long ago
by furious, ancient gods
who froze waters in the north and south.
Island nations do not know
what that quarrel was about.
But Helios no longer spares the sun
and, Poseidon, freer to roam,
batters and eats our shores.
Houses hang on precipices of eroding soil.
Aguoeh, the sea spirit has not taken our side.
Met Agwe has lost his way.
They watch as Vulcan and Agwe Flambeau
set our homes and land aflame.
Will our island nations cease to be?
How great is our offence?
Have we marred beautiful Heaven,
stifled wind’s freedom?
Have we made Mother-earth anemic,
sucked life out her bosom?
If we promise to mend our ways.
Christ, Buddha, Allah and Loa may intervene.
© Althea Romeo-Mark 15.5.15.
*Poseidon- god of the sea
*Vulcan-god of fire
* Loa (also spelled Lwa or L'wha) are the spirits of Haitian Vodou and Louisiana Voodoo. They are also referred to as Mystères and the Invisibles and are intermediaries between Bondye (French: Bon Dieu, meaning "good God")—the Supreme Creator, who is distant from the world—and humanity.
*Agwé (Agueh) is a Loa who rules who rules the sea.
*Met Agwe is the Loa of direction. His territory is the winds and the currents, waves and depths of the oceans. He helps sailors find their bearings when lost at sea. He provides inspiration and guidance whenever an individual needs them in times of turmoil, loss, or indecision over the sea, fish, and aquatic plants, as well as the patron Loa of fishermen and sailors
* Agwe Flambeau is from a realm of boiling water, like a hot springs or an underwater volcanic eruption.
We are driven away from English Harbour,
watch the village flee into distance:
its sea-splashed coves,
its tiny island houses, some thatched,
some wearing sun-glinted, galvanized roofs,
its brown men on cane-stacked donkeys,
pickers plucking cotton and the smells of
callaloo, pepper-pot and dukanah
teasing the sweltering air.
It is the beginning of losing part of ourselves.
Father makes a heroic figure
guiding the landed plane on the runway.
We watch as its swirling fans settle into standstill.
Valises in hands, we disembark to new landscapes.
Our old island home is transformed into an idyllic realm.
Its scenes become locked-away treasure taken out
with flourish and shared at special gatherings.
Our hands dance in the valleys and hills of loud recalling.
© Althea Romeo-Mark Revised 26.02.2015, revised 12.03.15
English Harbour- a natural harbor and settlement on the island of Antigua.
Callaloo, pepper-pot and dukanah- food specialties of the Caribbean
|Another of many departures and arrivals Haiti (extreme left) age 16 , part of a methodist mission.|
Haitian Memories 1960s
Papa Doc, threatened,
forbids snapshots of his mansion.
Men in dark glasses
glare behind giant steel gates.
Our sneakers brand us American.
A beggar, spying foreigners,
pinches her baby to bait our pity
but we do not fall prey.
Curses pummel our ears.
Overrun by a swarm of vendors,
we flee without paintings and carvings
that speak of Mother Africa.
An invitation to a voodoo ceremony
parades zombies in our heads.
Our shuddering senses shout no.
II Journey to Petit Goave
Overcome by sleep,
we lean on strange shoulders.
But the bus bounces and we are shaken,
stomach stirred, car sick.
Flood swallows roads.
Rivers scale embankments.
We disembark in the dark,
scan banks for alligators
we’ve been cautioned about.
We climb on and off again
as bus drivers test
the safety of the river-road’s depth.
Arriving at midnight,
we listen for the echoes
of drums in the hills
that fantasy foretold,
but fall asleep betrayed.
Heads filled with warnings
of island magic,
we dare not walk bare foot.
Do not want to return home
the jackasses they have warned
we would become.
Petit Goave: The Darkest fudge
It is only mud.
It will do for now,
for they are alive,
and feign it’s
the darkest fudge.
They eat the clay
It is sweet.
Petit Goave :Naked Truth
The plight of the poor
is a weight
we have never carried.
We bend steel, mix mortar,
build a foundation for a church.
Provide food for the soul.
|Learned to bend steel to build a foundation for this church in Petite Goave, Haiti.|