ST. HELENA ISLAND

My poem about St Helena Island:

 

1. HELENA ISLAND

 

Sleepy island, almost as old as time,

Born of fire, and shaped by sea and wind;

Fortress against marching Atlantic swells

Crashing against your cliffs and hostile shores,

Then withdrawing with the roar of water

And rolling rocks, and crackling of pebbles;

Leaning steadfast against the south-east trades,

Sheltering your deep and fertile valleys;

Your mountains, greened by wind borne mist and rain,

With leaning, stooping trees shaped by wind;

Just touched a moment ago by humans

Now celebrating five long centuries

Of history since they first knew of you:

 

To us you are timeless and perhaps past

Your time, once a landmark on the trade-routes,

A fortress, a resting place for seamen,

An inn in the desert of the ocean,

And prison for Emperor, Prince and Boer.

Still kindly people live on so remote

An Island, and they celebrate its past.

 

How much shorter are our own little lives,

And how brief our time to enjoy this world!

So why is it we do not celebrate,

But so often merely mark, the milestones

Of the passage of our sad, sterile lives?