Attempting to work out the WordPress formatting glitch for Na/GloPoWriMo Day 11 on a place of origin:
Nostalgia For Guantanamo
by Michael Romani
Nostalgia beats as a fond memory
Of lived love and hearth of family
Fondness of the heart grows in absence
Often deeper than it grows in presence
Brothers and sisters joined in singularity
Laughing and crying at the same hilarity
We are joined together by a place
We are bonded together a we embrace
The Western and Eastern banks of Guantanamo Bay
At a handful of beaches we’d splash and play
Few of us knew that Columbus landed at Fisherman’s Point
Or that many of name of those who had come before to anoint
All the many places we committed to our memory
As one large and ever growing extended family
John Paul Jones Hill oversaw the journeys of us all
While most happenings happened on Windward as I recall
Both rainforest and cacti were fields of play
Guantanamera was a hit once so they say
Interestingly a naval base embraces natural history
Protecting the flora and fauna of rare endemicity
And perhaps it’s that uniqueness that flavors us
As willing to stick our hearts and courage out just because
Of all those little things that come to shape our youth
Like a singular hold on living out our best truth
The cactus curtain separated those living in freedom
From those living under the horror of that revolution
Opuntia and landmines filled that rugged no man’s land
Each side certain that the Curtain held the upper hand
Most of us Pirates attended William T. Sampson schools
Where we began to grow up and break the rules
A one of a kind experience for the children of those who protect
And most it, preserved in the Guantanamo Public Memory Project
Semi arid, we grew up there on the dust and not a lot of rain
And learned that to conserve was more about life than pain
When water was cutoff by that brutish Cuban nation
We learned to get by and thrive through desalination
What I remember a lot of was all the water just in reach
There at Family, Cable, Glass and mostly Windmill Beach
All of the lessons such a life had to readily teach
At Hidden, Blue, Cuzco, Niknik and Ferry Landing Beach
It’s true that no man steps into the same river twice
But looking back, mostly what I remember is very nice
Riding horses out on the hillside and coral trails
We knew freedom, love and friendship in our best tales
Small town living as we grew restless then island hopped
Partying and carrying on until we finally dropped
But the best of things has been an incredible extended family
That for this lifetime has kept us in the best and truest company
( c) April 11, 2019 Michael Romani
All Rights Reserved
