Bonjou Haiti

a poem for haiti


I awake in a sweat to the sounds of labor. Our hosts are busy preparing for us as we rest in our beds. For them, the hard ground and a few hours of sleep is sufficient. The ceaseless sun, however, does not rest, and we are back to our game of hide and seek. The smell of food fills my nostrils as I wonder through the house. “Bonjour Big Mitch,” says Medjina. “Bounjour,” I respond. They are all occupied with their own roles, each essential to making our stay here nothing short of exceptional. 


I find my compadres scattered around the yard. Kevin is at the steps, reading from Leviticus with seriousness. Bob lays flat on his back, catching some extra Zzz’s. Esteban is still in bed, although most mornings I have found him under the shade stretching or meditating. The laughter from last night has lulled. For now, our hosts take care of business.


In a single swift movement, our breakfast, bathroom, laundry, and rooms are prepared. Returned back to their default state. Prestige bottles are fashioned in a neat pile across the yard. We’ve drunk them all. Odson toys with the new generator we bought yesterday; it will provide power for everything we need. The generator rumbles awake –  so much for “super silent”… False advertising! Medjina picks at Kevin’s fingers. Lancia combs Rob’s messy hair. If Esteban were awake, he’d be receiving a head rub from Audjya. 


Bill Evans plays in my ears, bringing a piece of home with me to the island. Reminds me of Rachel. I miss her. Esteban is up now. Smart man, he’s already drinking water. We all know today is a big day, we must take care of our bodies. I look back and the crew has disappeared, meaning only one thing: breakfast is ready. Time to eat.



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