Gales of turmoil churning,
Drive fickle winds of chance,
Bearing cruel fates upon the bow wave,
Scatter cards of happenstance.

A world that neither loves nor hates us,
Ever presses towards it’s goal,
Nature’s ceaseless rhythms pressures
Our fragile craft upon yon shoal.

But ’tis a sporting game they’ve laid us,
Like with predator and prey,
Hidden harbors and holes to bolt to
Among the landscape lay.

Havana shields a southern neighbor,
Just across the Cuban Deep,
Where sun and spray wait daily,
But no other appointments keep.

My feet trace pirate footsteps,
Mine eyes watch Time fall dead.
Joyous music soothes my aching breast,
Pushing Mainland from out my head.

Few here are landed, yet all are rich,
Island laughter is their coin.
Spicey foodstuffs ‘mid glory sunsets,
No colony master can ‘ere purloin.

Ah, Jamaica, thou Caribbean gem!
Shine a beacon for hearts forlorn.
Make smooth the waves for aged travellers,
Stay safe for Rogues as yet unborn.

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