Night Of The Alba

The audience sees you standing

behind the podium, but I know

you’ve long flattened the walls

of the room; you’ve gone leaping

across the Caribbean Sea.


There you spin and toss the islands.

Like a fuller’s earth you filter out

the slag of insularity, the waste

of creeping nationalism

until one shining stretch remains:

one place with one foundation,

one home named Region.


The crowd’s applause signals your return.

O Captain, your sea-legs are weary.

You make your way towards me,

grasp in both of yours, the hand

I’m holding out.


You’re anchored.


Maria Holder Memorial Trust

Maria Holder Memorial Trust

WaterFront Cafe

Waterfront Cafe

The NodeHub

Island Inn Hotel


Days Bookstore

National Library Service


Maria Holder Memorial Trust