by Jenese Morris

There is the danger of interpreting

progress to mean city lights and

never ending night life, high rise

invasions, seductive shopping malls,

Friday evening office ‘limes’….

There is not much time to think of your roots.

But before your mind can erase history,

you recognize the meaningless smiles

under the bright city lights;

the vacant cavity where human warmth should occupy.

And you wonder why your destiny is

confined to this lonely existence.

Back home in rural Jamaica,

a smile had no hidden agenda.

After a hard day’s work, there was still

enough time to sit on the verandah and

have a chat with the neighbour.

Back home…..where hillsides and wide open space,

interpreted the progress of God’s grace.

Back home…. where life made sense.

Yet I speak of it in the past tense.