This poem came unexpectedly, as the cruise my wife and I went on for our anniversary was not scheduled to end up in Honduras. But because a hurricane began to threaten the Bahamas, our ship had to deviate, and we ended up in a place we had never been before. It was mesmerizing to wake up in the first hour of the morning and look out through our balcony. And because I cannot draw to save my life, I figured I would paint the picture with words:
ROATAN
Serene, greenish, still, the sea ends and meets
a winding road that hugs small cliffs, dense with
rainforest green, deep greens, and bright greens,
tall thin branches sticking out, like needles in between,
flanked by tropical palms and coconut trees.
The cliffs are pimpled by houses of many colors;
little villas that seem to grow from the ground itself
all different in elevation, unevenly spaced.
A line of cars sings the song of engines and horns
twisting around the curvy road, barely missing
the bikes and scooters, local daredevils that fearlessly
zigzag along. Somewhere hidden in the thickness
of the brush, dogs are heard arguing over breakfast
barking fiercely at one another, working to earn their
rightful place at the table. And the seagulls circumvent
the waters below—still slow and serene—planning
their first dive of the morning, hoping to snatch
a slow, sluggish fish
Drums are beating in the distance, like big, excited hearts
and a woman in a traditional outfit refuses to not dance
Strangers come and go, pushing along their intricate lives,
their worries, and illnesses and those events that showed up
by surprise; the deaths and desperations and the fears that
keep them awake at night, and their anger and jealousy,
unexpected heartbreaks and all those other things Life
seems committed to teach. They are accustomed to the beauty of
this place, no longer able to see the colors that surround them
every day.
Now the sun begins its climb, and somehow this place
is filled with a strange sense of yearning;
a desire for something that feels obvious but untouched,
an important sort of treasure that has always been missing,
yet, of its existence I had never known.