Christmas Breeze, by John Figueroa

 Merry Christmas, and after this difficult year, I wish you all the very best for 2021!

Thanks for reading the blog this year, and for your thoughtful comments. Enjoy this Christmas poem, Christmas Breeze, by John Figueroa. 

Christmas Breeze

Auntie would say 'Ah! Christmas breeze',

as the Norther leapt from the continent

across Caribbean seas,

across our hills

to herald Christmas,

ham boiling in the yard

plum pudding in the cloth

(Let three stones bear the pot;

and feed the hat-fanned fire).

This breeze in August cools a Summer's day 

here in England.

In December in Jamaica

we would have called it cold,

Cold Christmas Breeze,

fringing the hill tops with its tumble

of cloud, bringing in

imported apples, and dances

and rum (for older folk).

For us, some needed clothes, and a pair

of shoes squeezing every toe.

And Midnight Mass:

Adeste Fideles!

Some Faithful came -

and why not? - a little drunk,

some overdressed, but

ever faithful.

Like Christmas breeze

returning every year, bearing

not August's end, nor October's

wind and rain but Christmas

and 'starlights'

and a certain sadness, except for Midnight Mass

and the Faithful

('The Night when Christ was born')

I miss celebrations, but I miss most

the people of faith

who greeted warmly every year

the Christmas breeze.

Love Notes from Island Lockdown by Danielle Boodoo-Fortune

I am so pleased to share this beautiful poem, Love Notes from Island Lockdown by Danielle Boodoo-Fortune. Danielle recently shared the poem on Instagram, and I loved it so much that I asked her if I could repost it here. The poem was shortlisted for the Montreal International Poetry Prize this year. Well done, Danielle!

 Love Notes from Island Lockdown

To close an island, you must first thread the borders with bits of sea glass, prayer beads, and rusted metal, blur the map’s blue with your damp open palm. The coast is half-blind and prone to drifting. Your island doesn’t always come back when you call. Still, you must forgive its sinking sand and jagged fault lines. We all have wounds from which we cannot heal.

But your small house is an island too, the silver bowl of risen dough on the windowsill, the sliver of amber in your son’s right eye and sometimes the island surfaces in you, high and seismic, like in the middle of this dry month when the first wave stills and the mountain poui gasp in yellow adoration. You want to worship at the peninsula’s throat again, but the weeks and waves still loom so grey and strange in the distance. In the sealed container of home now, Saharan dust clouds drift and settle. You find airspaces in the secret hollows of trees, mark time in the nesting cycles of cornbirds and the fruiting season of mangoes.

COVID-19's Sting: Losing Dobby

 On July 21st, almost three weeks after we celebrated his birthday, I lost my big brother, Highland Ralph "Dobby" Dobson to COVID-19. Dobby was a celebrated Jamaican singer, but he also embraced other roles, such as proof-reader, real estate agent, salesman, and brand manager. 

Dobby loved singing and acting, ever since he was in primary school. He managed to land the leading role alongside famous Jamaican actress Madge Sinclair, when they both starred in Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, put on by Central Branch Primary. Dobby also tried his hand at writing and self-published a novel, The Misadventures of Saucy and Her Mama. He had left a glowing review of my fledgling first poetry book on Goodreads, cheering me on, and I did the same for his novel. I miss our literary discussions. I am sharing below some of the online obituaries and tributes which will give more details on who my amazing brother was:

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/07/31/obituaries/dobby-dobson-dead-coronavirus.html

http://jamaica-gleaner.com/article/lead-stories/20200721/beloved-jamaican-singer-dobby-dobson-dies-78

https://thetropixs.com/jamaican-singer-dobby-dobson-dies-at-78-from-covid-19/

http://jamaica-gleaner.com/article/entertainment/20200819/funeral-service-dobby-dobson-saturday

2020 has been one of the weirdest years we have had. To all those who have lost loved ones to this scourge, I wish you healing, grace and, and peace. Below is a poem I wrote in tribute to Dobby, called New Realms. I hope it brings you comfort as you cherish the memories of your loved ones.

New Realms

My memories of you are kept in that deep heart space

protected and watered every now and then

by sad or joyous tears. When you couldn’t find them,

and had forgotten some of your big brother jokes out of the long ago,

I reminded you of the Edgewater one when you

chased away a prospective suitor who had interrupted my homework.

 

When miles stood between us, your humor

made the distance easier to bear.

With grace, you tolerated my song requests.

When life storms did their destructive worse,

you soldiered on bravely. I watched you - battle after battle.

Fortis Cadere Cedere Non Potest!

Though you fell, you never yielded really.

 

That evening, your soul soared to new realms

to sit near peaceful streams and hear wonderful sounds

to sing new songs with Ma Belle, Mama, and the rest of your choir

to interrogate angels and saints

to have sweet, sweet dreams

and rest at last in the arms of your Savior.