Saint Lucia (An Epic)

Saint Lucia

(An Epic)

III

Perceptions of a New Nation’s Identity

450 years of being colonized

Only sovereign 39 years

Who is Saint Lucia?

Gruff unsmiling locals

Are they unhappy, resentful?

Left over from imperialist exploitation?

Half-Indigenous, half British

But servant class-servant race

Imposed

Private, very private affection shielded from tourists

Gruff, but with breaks of personality, of endearment

Moderate beginning growing familiarity with the Island and the Resort’s locals

After dinner the band played everybody danced smiled

Tourists staff and housekeeping smiles

The resort power outage and on again and off and on during a rainstorm

 

I asked everybody all day where Nick the Rasta Man was

Nick came up to us at lunch

I asked Nick the Rasta Man to make me two bracelets in the same pattern as the chokers I bought

Later, bringing them, Nick sat at our table and talked with us for a while

 

All grows on me as the Island-a wild Island-begins to grow on me

Where will Saint Lucia be in 10 years?

Saint Lucia (An Epic)

I am posting a poem called “Saint Lucia (An Epic)” over a few days.  It is a long poem in 5 parts.  I am posting one part per day.  Yesterday I posted part I.  Today I post part II.  My girlfriend said that passages in part II sound racist.  My intention is social criticism, not racism and I hope that readers will understand my intention.

II

Arrival: The Resort

Beyond words, beyond generous

Our luxurious resort home for a week

Riding through impoverished exclusively Afric locals

We few white riding into opulence

Did I detect resentment in our driver’s responses to our questions?

 

Morning coffee overlooking the ocean

Reflecting about self, self-esteem, why we are who we are

What we want, what we wish for out of life

 

Last night I saw the Southern Cross for the first time

My camera can’t photograph it

It belongs to the sky—the dark, night sky

 

Breakfast and the pool for a while and some Wallace Stevens

A Hobie-Cat, a snack, and some Wallace Stevens

The pride of the atheist and texts of atheism

Smart words

 

We few white

Pleasant indolence, calm, tranquil

And some Earl Klugh

And there is no time but the clocks and the calendars mark it

What day is it today?

Is it Tuesday?

And enjoying Joe Zawinul

The easy pace-in everything-leads me to wonder if my life in the city is too frenetic

Saint Lucia (An Epic)

Over the next 5 days I will be posting:

Saint Lucia

(An Epic)

It is an extended poem in 5 sections, about my first visit to Saint Lucia.  To make the post manageable, I will not post the whole poem at once, but will do it one section a day.  This day’s post is the departure and trip to Saint Lucia.

Saint lucia

(An Epic)

I

Departure

Home and the family farm

And the departure and the road and travel and time

Anticipation and passing time

Music and the road and a little writing

Travelling and time

And music in the truck and a little talking and a nap

Time and travelling

The overnight hotel by the airport

The swimming pool after dinner

Reclining in our room before sleeping

 

Fire in the control tower

And we waited for the plane’s push-back

Take-off delayed an hour

And boredom and anticipation

And sitting 37,000 feet above the Atlantic

And time and iPod headphones

An hour, hours, another hour

Two ours left “Time’s going fast,” Carol said

And strains of Bach’s Cello Suite #6

And a little writing

Half nodding off and nodding off

Landing, immigration, customs

A new world, tropical

Saint Lucia

Blues Club

I was wearing my city face

And I didn’t make eye-contact

When people looked my way, I didn’t see

There were too many unfortunate consequences

If you made eye-contact or saw others

I didn’t hate

There were just too many unfortunate consequences

I show love

Not here

Isolation, alienation

Here, and substance abuse, and bombast

But for live music, I wouldn’t be here

But for my solitary home life I wouldn’t be here

But for my sensitive intellect

I might communicate

Some desperate, broken, obnoxious seek community, here

As I did, years ago

She’s not with me tonight

Nor the network stemming from her, from us

Not here, now, but with me, still, even now

The band’s on break and I’m alone

Not in life

Just here

By design

Judgement Upon Life

I haven’t begun my life, at thirty six.

Marilyn was dead by then.

Was that a life?

Is there ever a life?

Will alienation

 

From childhood define time

Ambition, contention, compromise, corruption

Pass the years that wear

Complex adjustments upon sincerity

 

Until genuine doubt about how

Much sincerity is dissipate

Defines life.

As time passes–judgement upon life.

Life Winding Here

The life I’ve led is winding

I have made plans

I have made choices

And the life I’ve led winded here

I can look back

And wonder at the path I’ve taken

The path that took me

Happy with that path in retrospect

The life that winded here

To this pleasant place

Now I am here

Now I am happy

Happy with it all

The path, the past, the present

 

I have choked and spat out

Unhappy options I had little choice but accept

And endure time

But winding to this place

This pleasant place

Here, now

The good path that winded here

Now

 

Yet here faith and mistrust oscillate

This place so contingent

This pleasantness

So easily brought to ruin, potentially

And the future a guess at best

Not even

There is yet faith, growing faith

Trusting that it’s all going to be all right

 

Thinking back

On a life lived long and well

In expectation of life yet to come

Probably long life

As life now

As life was

Will be

To wind to another tomorrow

A Life

There was me

Me getting by

And that’s about it

Just getting by

 

Then there was life

And that life was you

Is you

 

Life now

Living now

Loving now

Loving life

Loving you

 

Even alone, you are in my life

Even in pain, want, struggle

Your pain, want, struggle

My pain, want, struggle

I live, have life

Have a life

Have you

 

In success, accomplishment, happiness

Yours or mine, yours in mine, mine in yours

I live redoubled

Love redoubled

Love life

Love living

Love you

I Was It

I was in a slick city

I was slick

I was where it’s at

I was it

I did the right things

I said the right words

I was biting, sarcastic, cynical

I thought the right thoughts

I was an atheist

Body and Soul

There’s a lot of talk about

Skin, hair, fingernails, clothes

A lot of talk, business, money

Skin, hair, fingernails, clothes

 

Then there’s mind and soul

Feelings, lusts, affections, joy

Thoughts, truths, reasoning, wisdom

Not much talk about this

Life Is

“You’re going to have a hard life,”

My boss told me, in my 20’s

I’ve had dreams crushed, my heart broken

But who hasn’t

I’ve lived impoverished a long time

I didn’t feel it as a Harvard student

When I got my Ph.D.

I was worse than impoverished, deeply in debt

And I felt it

I’ll likely never get out of debt

I wrote and published a book

When I was poor

I lowered myself to begging a few times

Was relegated to the back seat of a lot of cars others owned

All the while I played and wrote music, poetry, lyrics

 

Some people live a comfortable life

To them, a good life

But shit happens, even to them

Some people are rich and complacent

Some people are very rich and dedicated to acquisition

I have known a few years of comfortable middle-class

And bought expensive art prints

A piano, an amp, guitar

A couple crystalline rocks

I travel places with my partner

 

My life has been hard at times

And I have known accomplishment, and contentment, and bitterness

I have no regrets

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