Cuba

Havana Sunrise

The sun rises slowly
leisurely peeking over the Atlantic horizon.

A golden globe of life shimmering over the ancient uncut
emerald jewel of the new world.

And under the glorious spotlight of dawn …
I see Cuba.

Her pain and solitude bared before me
in the eyes of her children;

and etched in the faces of those who remember
when it was different.

The price of self-determination can be its own prison.
And yet Cuba still smiles … and loves … and bleeds to belong.

Shunned by a big brother unable to forgive her audacity.
Hated by lost sons and daughters and cousins still living in the past.

But what seems pride is only resilience.
This venerable beauty has survived Columbus,
and the Conquistadors,
and the Pirates,
and the Robber Barons,
and the Russians … and she will survive me.

But I still can’t answer her lonely burning question.
Why?

Lucian