Tipping off the plane in my flowy sundress, I felt the purest sunshine I’d ever felt.
It went straight through me, like tiny kisses on my neck.
I knew I was someplace a little more magnificent.
Flowers brilliantly hued,
Sea in a sacred-glistening aquamarine blue,
The depth of the blue adds incalculable value,
Its’ calm in need of protection.
Black folks’ tones deep, dewy, and bright.
Mother Earth as medicine, artform, and retreat.
Trees swaying to and fro
Creating a breeze that only cools a natives’ soul.
Distinct smells in the air,
the smell of culture and the sweetness of ripe fruit hanging from trees steadied only by thin vines.
Richness and melodies playing peripherally for guests, an intrusive marvel.
Wishing everyone could take five and just be but such a hospitable warmth,
an irreplaceability pure to this place so I will learn to value it.
Given space here, folks around yet far enough to breathe deeper than usual.
My dress flying excitedly, she’s refreshed by this newness and energy
Exposing my pure intentions and flawless skin
Giving old Rastaman a glimpse of a new corner of heaven-- in jest.
Accents thick and conjured yet we
understand one another, universally.
The elder saying, “I tank dee Lawd for dis Car-rib-bean wind;”
Old freak was all I could think as I smiled and continued to tip down the jetway, he didn’t mean to offend.
My time here full of ripeness, newness, realness; anything less a sin.