MOURNING SEASON

Port-au-Prince took a deep breath

She is ill again with a temperature of lawlessness

When was the last time you’ve seen her?

I made her coffee one night with cassettes and letters

Written by my mother

Most of them emotionally laced with TV dinners and Hawaiian punch

She has forgotten what it’s like to be a paysan

She does not want to be reminded of suffering or dead bodies floating

Behind the backyard

Mother blows me a kiss as I sit beside Port-au-Prince’s cot

The drumbeats are slow and steady textures of the Haitian sky

I wait for her to speak

Say something beautiful so I can bring back to my siblings

The dress she wears is a spiritual desert screaming for rain

I close my eyes as I touch her ruins

The blood stains resembles a delivery of roses

The room cradles her sadness

And my mother gulps back tears again

Her father was in town and bought her sweets

She sucks on sugarcane and fresco to extend her life

I plant a goodbye kiss to Port-au-Prince

Pretend we are one

Pretend she will rise again someday

©2008Cathy Delaleu

art by Cathy Delaleu 2009 edition