St. Croix, 2022

All Poems, Emotions, Pain, St. Croix, 2022, Stories, Trips and Places

An Old Sugar Mill

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Today I sat in an old Danish sugar mill.
Built by slaves.
Likely in the seventeen hundreds.
Stone, wood, coral, cement.
Whatever they had on hand in St. Croix at the time.
Remains of mills dot the island.
Some in better shape than others.
The one I occupied,  practically intact.
Minus the cane crushing apparatus.
Instead, a table in the center.
Chairs around.
For tourists to stop.
Sip a cool drink.
Rest in the shade.
So, what was I doing there?
Participating in a Zoom seminar.
Mindfulness and hypnosis.
Four noble truths.
The Eightfold Path.
Acknowledgement of suffering.
Diminution of misery.
Compassion.
Stress reduction.
How is it possible I  listened to a presentation
on kindness here?
In this space?
Where enslaved Africans produced sugar, molasses?
Though irony’s not a feeling,
I felt it in my bones.
Desperation, injustice
oozed from cold old stones.

Lynn Benjamin
January 30, 2022

All Poems, Beaches, Natural Beauty, St. Croix, 2022, Trips and Places

Beaches in St. Croix

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Every island has beaches.
Places where water meets land.
St. Croix has many.
Long stretches of white sand.
Clear, blue waters.
Sites to explore.
Go on day trips for.
But, after strolling half a dozen,
my favorite’s the one outside my door.
Not the finest sand.
Heaps of shells, seaweed.
Populated with palms, date and coconut.
Teeming with wildlife.
Scuttling crabs.
Bathing horses.
Black swallowtails.
Rhythmic waves, rolling, lapping.
One end, a forest of portia trees.
A natural mound of sea debris, shells.
Then the broader beach.
Gardens toward the back.
Bougainvilleas, yellow gingers, cacti.
Chaises under dried frond umbrellas.
Scents intoxicating.
Salt, washed up plants, coral.
Dependable breezes.
Mostly deserted except for a few walkers, bathers.
On the balconies, people dine on the scene.
Beach, breakers, snorkelers, sailboats, pelicans, mountains.
At night, the moon.
Lights of Christiansted.
Strange, how easy it is to attach to a place.
Its sounds, smells, in only weeks.
No different, I suppose, than a newborn to its mother.
Calming nourishment.
Unconditional giving.
Reassuring to know it’s possible to find bliss at any age.
Is it a state of mind?
Or, a willingness to surrender?

Lynn Benjamin
January 17, 2022

All Poems, Beaches, Death, Humor, Natural Beauty, People Traits, St. Croix, 2022, Stories, Trips and Places

Beauty, Poignancy, and A Hat

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Sometimes, beauty and poignancy collide.
A tropical beach on a January day.
Salt, transparency, breezes.
Palms, seagrapes.
Perfect harmony.
Nothing askew, amiss.
Balance.
Order.
A few bathers.
Adding to tranquility.
Only one small detail unaccounted for.
A white haired woman in a pink cap on a chaise.
Beside her, an empty chair with a beige Tilley.
Bob, my soulmate, makes pleasantries.
Then, he says: your Tilley is exactly like mine.
The lady seems eager to explain.
My husband passed.
Now I travel with his hat.
I keep it beside me on a chair.
Bob listens.
He hears the need to hold on.
Bob and she nod goodbyes.
He and I head to the beach.
We’re silent a few moments.
Poignancy sets in.
Then Bob turns to me.
One day, I guess, I’ll be a hat.

Lynn Benjamin
January 17, 2022

All Poems, Animals/Insects, Fear, Pandemic, Politics, St. Croix, 2022, Stories, Trips and Places, Worry

Chickens

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Roosters crow at dawn in St. Croix.
Rouse me from my bed.
Continue all day.
In the country.
The city.
Strut triumphant.
A gaggle of hens around them.
Followed by baby chicks.
Why do so many roam the island?
Maybe no different than pelicans, herons, doves.
All feathered.
All free.
To move about.
Breathe.
Live.
Unlike shackled slaves of yore.
Whose history, revealed on silent signs.
By the old sugar cane weighing station.
Near where people were trafficked, bought, sold.
A tragic stain on the human story.
A commentary on greed, power over others.
What they wreak.
It’s a relief that chickens manage on their own.
Plumage, shiny, healthy.
But, still, I worry for humankind.
Too many eager to sell democracy for domination.

Lynn Benjamin
January 13, 2022

All Poems, Change, Environment/Mother Earth, Food, St. Croix, 2022, Trips and Places

Coconut Milk

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Coconut Milk

I closed my eyes last night.
To sounds of rain.
Pounding against windows, roof.
Awakened with remnants of dark clouds.
Dreams of former times.
Younger, scheduler in hand.
Organizing the day, the week.
But, the sky cleared.
Memories from slumber faded.
A daytime image from yesterday moved in.
Spontaneous coconut harvest.
The machete sliced.
Slashed.
Slit.
Who can refuse a gift?
On the beach?
Nectar brimmed.
Thirst quenched.
Not cloying, not too sweet.
A chance, by chance, to savor milk
from Mother Earth, her teat.

Lynn Benjamin
January 15, 2021

 

All Poems, Animals/Insects, Farewell, Humor, Panic, St. Croix, 2022, Stories, Time, Trips and Places, Worry

Was it Merely Luck or a Freudian Slip?

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Our trip to St. Croix was winding down.

News of a snowstorm blew from the north.

Boarding pass advising arrival at least an hour before the flight.

We followed instructions.

Only to be barred from checking in.

By an American clerk, standing firm.

Pointing to the sign.

Check-in at least ninety minutes prior to departure.

We beseeched.

Begged.

Panicked.

No dice.

No entry.

No re-booking till tomorrow at 6pm.

What about the connection in Miami?

That would have to wait three days.

Then, photos on the phone flashed by.

Snow blanketing streets, lawns, roofs in Philadelphia.

Where it was obscenely cold.

So, maybe, just maybe, though appointments

would have to be rearranged,

this was lucky happenstance.

Or was it more Freudian?

Unconscious wish to remain in paradise.

With lizards.

Pelicans.

Terns.

Engineered just slightly by mistiming to materialize?

Lynn Benjamin

January 29, 2022