from an Island Vacation
From all the mythic memories we make
Of childhood’s forests, gardens, beaches, seas,
Disturbed by adults’ eccentricities,
Come all the world’s religions – Tree and Snake,
Hero and Mother, Martyr, Saint and Fake.
Then let us make our mythic memories
(Implying endless possibilities)
From all that follows in the island’s wake:
Climbing up banyans, palms and tamarinds -
Firelight and starlight - total black of caves -
Spearing a lionfish - running on pink sand -
And unknown flowers scented on sea winds -
And jagged cliff heights where the ocean raves -
And views of huge horizons past all land.
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Robin Helweg-Larsen
would be pleased to hear them.