Poems

The child

The child of an over-doer,

becomes a slave of his years,

withholding and ignoring the

processing of his burning tears,

The child of a thief,

becomes an envious soul;

Poisoned from jealousy,

Feeling like he’ll never be whole,

The child of a narcissist,

becomes a people pleaser in his youth,

and as he matures,

may find it hard to tell the truth,

The child of the abused,

becomes a ball of trauma and fear,

Unable to see any joy in the presence;

afraid to receive any care,

The child of the overly stern,

becomes a furnace of frowns;

unable to find solace in

any friendly or joyful sounds,

The child of the ostracised,

becomes a person with a need to lead,

but if that control in their hand ever leaves,

they will resort to a world of gluttony and greed,

But sometimes the child of the foolish,

is never cursed to any one life,

Consciousness can be gained;

no one is ever born wise,

Sometimes the child of the insecure,

becomes one who is capable and sure,

Not perfect by any measurement,

but carved with remarkable resilience; bound to endure.

Sometimes the child of the weak

grows to possess magnificent stamina and willpower

Fearless and courageous

physique robust and sturdy like a well built tower

Sometimes the child of the hoarder

grows into a charitable being

His possessions, he shares

with the homeless and unseen.

- Angela Yap Chung

# # #

Miss Beryl

Miss Beryl came barrelling at us

As a category 4 hurricane

Just like Gilbert!

The Met Office kept us informed,

About her arrival

Boy! You know Jamaicans

Nuh tek nutten serious,

It na come, some said

Don’t dem always tun back, watch an si

One lady stock up on food stuff

When she heard that Matthew was coming us in 2016

Of course using her partner money

And then blame Prime Minister Holness

Wi do things extreme sometimes don’t….

As the days drew nearer

And it was pointing that Beryl was a sure hit

Guess what! It was now a category 5

Heading to hit the south coast

Some persons began to prepare

Shelters were opened

You could hear the hammers

And the chopping of trees

The supplies sell off

No kerosene oil

No candles

No bread, crackers, bulls, water

Shelves empty,

Traffic pileup

Preparation still a foot

Gullies were cleaned

The corner shops were opened

For last minute shoppers,

The homeless transported to safety,

The stray dogs trying to find shelter,

The birds stopped their chirping as they go in hiding

The place quite!

As we began to reflect like when

Wi hear se Gilbert was on his way

Quite and sunny,

Then wi hear se she a go really hit wi Wednesday!

And den wi hear se a evening she a come

Late evening!

The rains started

The trees swaying

The sky dark,

And at daybreak Thursday,

Wi hear se she mash up the south coast

Taking roofs and crops in her fury

Power lines were down

All this while in other parts of the island

Some a kick ball

And a mek merry and watching

Cell towers were destroyed

Causing us to look at our phones

No service!

No power to charge dem

We were more desperate for phone service

Than food……

Our loved ones from all over trying to call us

She mash wi up

No water for some

No power for some

Or both for some

The water bar swam to another location

No dish to move, but zinc could be seen

Yes! There was damage and loss of lives

The first responders took their places

We salute you all for your stellar service

We give God thanks because

He stayed His hand

Thank You, God because it could have been worst,

Our prayers are for our neighbours in the Caribbean

And for those in the US, who suffered damage and loss of lives as well,

God, we ask that Your hand of comfort be

Outstretched to us and that Your provision be for us all.

– Sonia Dawson