Trades from the East speak to me,
bending without mercy
silver thatch palms
outside my kitchen door.
On this tempest Sunday
I’ll blade into resolute winds,
to remind myself that I can,
and I do.
Zephyrs whisper in my ear,
“dig deep, find strength”,
my legs embrace the challenge,
and I fly.
Potent power strides
expressions of fine will summoned
propel me headlong into gusty defiance;
I am that.
Sapped but stoked nevertheless,
she nudges me homeward bound
soft hands upon my back.
To my left a robin egg sky
demarcates to a cobalt sea horizon where
rhapsodies of liquid thunder roll ceaselessly to shore,
surrendering as muted foam.
To my right, eye numbing feast of Poinciana
dapples this Caribbean canvas delight,
tangerine blazes dissolve into
verdant Casuarina forests.
And when life places before me
challenges to face and hurdles to surmount,
I will prevail with all the substance I can muster,
because I can.
Copyright © Henri Ferguson 2008
All rights reserved.