Past the Hills and Over the Mountains (Three Poems)

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Javier Correoso

 

I: An Open Letter

 

Dear Mother,

Your ungrateful sons have stepped

All over you, with little care.

Your body lies atrophied on account of neglect.

Our father abandoned us all years ago.

 

Dear Island,

The Caribbean Sun is hot enough,

So much that the palm trees sway and sigh,

Like I do, when we receive its heat,

And the hot breeze makes you cry out gently, sweating.

 

Dear Tropics,

You, the tropical being.

Why is it that they can think of

The State, Tobacco, Rum, History,

Manhood, Violence, Hate,

When you are the one bleeding?

 

I am writing to you now,

With love and regret,

Your son.

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II: Murmur

 

In the soft murmur of the blue night

My loneliness uncoiled and let me breathe

For once.

 

And I laugh,

And the echoes laugh,

And the white Moon laughs;

Indifferent to my solitude.

 

And as I breathe the cold air of the night,

As the murmurs end

Around me,

In my slumber,

 

I dream of distant days

And distant friends

And distant ways,

Come to an end.

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III: Past The Hills and Over The Mountains

 

Past the hills,

Santiago lies stagnant;

The city that saw my youth– forgotten–sleeps.

Disquiet lays dormant inside the houses;

The paint crumbles, the people crumble,

The buildings I once thought steep.

I ask myself: Had they always looked so old?

 

Over the mountains,

The empty waterfront

Mocks our dreams.

There’s a light tower in Havana

Erected on the rocky coastline.

It overlooks the long beaches.

A ray of sun pierces the green fields.

The perpetuity of the salty waves

Corrodes the jagged rocks.

The Caribbean sighs quietly to itself.

 

Across the sea,

There’s a continent we aren’t part of.

There’s a Pan-American dream we’ve been written out of.

We lay in abandon.

There’s a country within ninety miles.

United and massive.

States.

Against us–

At least that’s what they told us.

Everyone finds themselves hoping;

We sail off like madmen for that Dream.

We sail off like madmen

Dreaming…

 

Beyond the shores,

The Sun sets behind me

And the Moon hasn’t risen yet.

Neon signs light my night.

This is fine for now.

This is fine.

But I hope we can at least see the Sun

As it rises tomorrow.

We find ourselves crying

Awake.

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Javier Correoso, class of 2025, is pursuing a double major in English and political science. He writes, “I was born in Cuba and have lived in the United States since 2013. My greatest passions include learning and studying languages and world history. I play the drums and love playing all kinds of music with friends. I like to read in my free time and watch movies, but I also like going out. I also enjoy working out.

Javier wrote these poems as part of a short poetry collection he submitted for a Harlem Renaissance course with Doctor Owens.  The collection is titled Past the Hills and Over the Mountains.