I am sharing a few poems which are about traveling, new experiences we encounter, discoveries we make about ourselves and others and the lessons we learn as we grow from childhood to adulthood.
In transit
Weeding
( Elementary school, the early 60s, US Virgin Islands)
We assemble in rows by class
in the sunny schoolyard,
wait for an announcement to be made.
We tease, poke fun, pull silly faces
as soon as the nuns turn their backs.
The ticker-tape of anticipation
flickers on the edge of mental surfaces.
But smiles turn to scowls when the unmasking begins.
Non-residents, “Aliens” are ordered to step aside,
are exposed as the weeds between flowers.
A divide is born, walls go up.
The lens through which
we see the world now tinted.
© Althea Romeo-Mark 2016
Exchange Student
(University of Connecticut, Stoors, Connecticut)
I sit in my room cloaked in homesickness.
The monthly letter from mother is late.
It is what I need to take off this feeling
of uncertainty I am now wear.
It’s been a few months since
my fellow exchange students and I
have left the comfort of our tropical cocoon.
We have been thrown into a cold, white world,
where we smile at every black or brown face we see—
The sighting so rare, it feels like warm clothing.
Snow flurries first seen bring excitement and wonderment.
Blizzards bring unwelcomed shivers, bone digging freezing.
We, having nowhere to go this Christmas
gather to sing every traditional calypso we remember
“Oh Island in the Sun, ““Brown Skin Girl,” “Banana Boat Song…”
Our voices echo in the emptied building.
We have been thrown into an unfamiliar world.
Our innocence broken and like “Humpty-Dumpty,”
cannot be put back together again.
The apartheid struggle, the march of Black Panthers,
The Viet Nam War, a student revolution
Knock daily at our door.
A letter brings familiarity, a mother’s voice heard
In every word read and savored is a warm
Cup of “cocoa tea.”
Journey to Middlebury: First of many firsts
(St. Thomas, US.V.I. to Vermont)
I am warned that when passing through New York
I must turn my bra into a pouch.
Though summer, I walk as if freezing,
hug my breast between which sits my purse.
I overnight in New York with a family acquaintance.
TVs in each room thunder, clash in noisy competition.
It is my introduction to American materialism.
On a bus heading to Vermont, I am a scared rabbit.
A stopover in my first motel is a rest
before the final leg of this solo journey.
But scared rabbits do not sleep.
At Middlebury College, my work-study scholarship
assigns me to be a waitress.
We, the heirs to the writer’s kingdom,
learn to balance trays, note down orders,
serve writer-royalty.
When dining is done, a large audience listens
under a New England summer sky
as I read Caribbean accented poetry.
They think my poems are cute.
I meet too many wordsmiths to remember.
Faces are murky, names glide over me
like waves rolling to the shore.
Two elderly women invite me to afternoon tea.
I am like a rabbit in a cage as I drink tea,
eat biscuits and scones,
give answers to probing questions.
Have I satisfied their curiosity?
A Caucasian learner of the craft asks me to dance.
His smell is different, a scent unforgettable.
A blue-black Gambian engages me in conversation.
He is the blackest man I have ever met.
People I may never encounter again
become part of my writer’s journey.
For this rabbit, it is the first of many firsts.
© Althea Romeo-Mark, 2016
Shedding My Cocoon
I am ready to escape
“The Rock,”
now a confining cocoon.
I taste the US
through a buffet of cities,
New Haven, Cleveland,
New York…,
my palate seeks pepper,
new adventures.
Arriving in Liberia,
I book into
a small hotel and bar.
They tell me
the spoken dialect is Bassa.
The only familiar voice
is that of Jimmy Cliff.
His song, “Many Rivers to Cross,”
has become someone’s mantra
and blares non-stop
from a Jukebox
Its words sit on my chest
like a heavy, spicy meal.
“…and this loneliness
won't leave me alone
It's such a drag
to be on your own.”
It becomes a spell
I have to shake off.
There is no going back
to strangling snugness.
*“The Rock”- Refers to St. Thomas (USVI). Name given to the island by locals.
© Althea Romeo-Mark Draft 201616
Owning me, Earning me
Still count my pennies,
still earn my keep,
`cause I understand that
freedom ain’t cheap.
Still comprehend
the road to perfection,
is driven by the acceptance
of our imperfection.
We learn we must captain our dreams
The oceans we cross are tested by storms,
each teaches us the art of steering,
the art of finding our bearings.
© Althea Romeo Mark 2017
Wonderful!!
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