Sunday Stew: Haitian Dust

by Jerrell Davis

 

From dawn til dusk

in this Haitian dust,

 

the heat on my feet

kicked up in the street

and caught my i .

 

Eye see Beauty

in this scorched earth like the fire in

persistent souls

seeking refuge

 

from a more unnatural energy .

 

From atoms to Adam,

senses to sins,

science to Spirit-

 

If you cannot see it

you need to hear it.

 

If we cannot touch it,

we must feel it.

 

Infrastructure

struck

down

by Nature’s sway

 

maintained by hearts that link

and lace

like handshakes

and again,

 

Eye see beauty

in the ashes-

For a phoenix will rise to its zenith.

 

Eye see the wind,

the breath of creation

and her Creator

combined to blow a breeze:

a kiss of Hope for each cheek.

 

But

each week that passes

without rain makes this soil less fertile,

despite the toil

and sweat shining

like the tin foil

our preservations are lined with.

 

This dry land,

a sanctuary

for those soaked

in the oceans of pain,

is relief, is refreshing, is home.

Yet, hearts thirst

more than the

parched dirt

 

and it hurts.

 

So with a prayer and a sigh,

we ask why

the Sky

refuses to cry

not one tear from her i

 

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