Althea Romeo Mark’s poems
published
in Beyond the Long Lines
Beyond the Long Lines Anthology is the product of a unique collaboration between the Virgin Islands
Established Program to stimulate Competitive Research(VI-ESPScoR) and The
Caribbean Writer to identify and document through poetry, prose and songs, some
of the issues, and more nuanced factors that contribute to difficult
pre-during-and post-hurricane human experiences on St. Croix. The written
products also serve as indications of potential needs for future research within
the territory.
In early September 2017, Hurricane Irma powered
through the Caribbean and Florida, leaving a trail of destruction and causing
upward of $65 billion in damage. ... Just two weeks later, Hurricane
Maria made landfall in Puerto Rico as a category 4 storm and became
the worst natural disaster in the island's history. Sept 20, 2018, https://disasterphilanthropy.org/event/hurricanes-irma-and-maria-state-of-recovery/
Hurricanes Ir-marie Flex their Muscles in the Caribbean
(for my people in the Caribbean devastated by Hurricanes Irma
and Maria)
Irmaria’s Legacy
Our once green islands,
salted brown by wind and
rain,
roofs blue-green tarped,
sit unlit in the dark.
In the hurricanes’
aftermath,
headlines sink off-island
family’s hearts
in apprehension.
We are patient in
waiting— lines are down
and we rely on news of
siblings’ sightings.
The daily news of loss,
looting, death,
the threat of water-borne
diseases,
reports of demand
out-running pricey supply,
photos of snaking
shopping lines,
and headlines of imposed
curfews
reminiscent of war zones,
are hard to swallow.
Our island paradise has become
a wounded soldier in
rehabilitation.
Inhabitants suffer trauma
in its wake.
Some have witnessed this
horror
not once but twice or
more,
and swear this is the
worst they’ve seen.
They are keepers of the
keys
to the heart and soul of island homes.
They soldier on,
understand the sacrifice.
Picking Up the Pieces
They had rummaged
through scattered
belongings,
picked up rain-soaked
photo albums
blown off shelves,
and bits of a shattered
chest of drawers
that held Grandma’s
diabetes
and pressure medication and memories—
baby teeth in a matchbox,
locks of hair and a photo
in a plastic sack
from the first barbershop
haircut
that showed the man
the boy would become,
Roofless houses
stand like skeletons,
their crowns ripped off
by vengeful winds.
Scattered in the
road—zinc sheets,
branches, leaves, shoes,
a shredding rattan
chair….
A neighbor’s belongings
lie in the alley
behind a stranger’s
house.
A grey sky threatens
another downpour.
Can’t it see they are
drained
after Irmaria’s*battering?
They will gather mind and
body,
dig deep into marrow
to stay tiredness in its
march,
so they do not break,
so others do not have to
pick up their pieces,
too.
An Unplanned Marriage
The deluged islands
flooded by rain and an
invading sea
are engulfed by an
unplanned union.
Sea, soil and sewer,
merged to swallow
islands’ shorelines,
lash at swamped
waterfronts.
Anchored boats that
brought trade
and yachts that lingered
leisurely,
now floating debris.
Hurricane Hauntings
Hurricanes Irma and Maria
have left their scars on
islands,
and, like a Biblical
damnation,
have inflicted their
hammering horror.
The memory of all they
took—
homes, family, economy,
confidence—is still raw.
The island-paradise is
lost in the eyes of many
who cannot see beyond
the hell in which they
are sunk.
And as islanders try to
rise
above surrounding
catastrophe,
haunting fears surface
beneath unseasonal
deluges—
Irma-Maria sending
reminders
from the spirit world of
hurricanes.
Nature playing with her
power,
showing her might
warning that we live at
her mercy.
Our Kilimanjaro
Post hurricane souvenirs
deface our streets.
Telephones poles and
streetlamps, too,
lie scattered like the
dead after a mass shooting.
We cannot lay blame on
striking trash men.
The island is decked in
nature’s wrecking.
We walk in the shadow of
our loss.
It is a daunting mountain
to climb.
But we set out to conquer
our Kilimanjaro.
Triumph shines brightly
at its peak.
© Althea Mark-Romeo, 2017
Virgin Islands Hurrikus (Hurricane Haikus)
After Irma and Maria
Batteries, tarp, ice
Became essential to life.
The Gods of Wind and Rain
Plot annually the course
Of their love child,
Hurricane
Still waiting for
electric lights
Some learn to savor
Star-filled UFO nights.
Intoxicated mosquitos
Sing night after night
After a feast of blood.
Do
the spirits of dead slaves
Cast
out trans-Atlantic
Come
back guised as Hurricanes?
Our
thrown overboard ancestors
Would
not turn their love
Into
gusty howls of hate.
Brief Biography
Born in Antigua, West Indies, Althea
Romeo-Mark is an educator and internationally published writer who grew up in
St. Thomas, US Virgin Islands. She has lived and taught in St. Thomas, US,
Virgin Islands, Liberia (1976-1990), London, England (1990-1991), and in
Switzerland since 1991. She was awarded the Arts and
Science Poetry Prize for poems published in POEZY 21:Antologia
Festivaluluiinternational Noptile De Poezie De Curtea De Arges, Curtea De
Arges, Romania, 2017.
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