January 17, 2017 at 9:00 pm (art, caribbean islands, Carriacou, meditation, Poetry, Prose, short story, St Vincent and the Grenadines)
The rain falls at a 45 degree angle as I think of dinosaurs and watch pelicans diving for fish.
The earth will wash itself of humanity with bright indifference.
The styrofoam cup will become oily sand on empty beaches with water so clear you can see the soul of the universe.
December 31, 2016 at 12:51 pm (caribbean islands, Carriacou, Cemetery, Climate change, ghost, gravestone, graveyard, short story, St Vincent and the Grenadines, Travel, West Indies)
The taxi driver repeated it back. “You want to go to the Tibeau Cemetery?” He seemed confused and probably suspicious.
The previous day, I asked the innkeeper about the cemetery.
Someone who grew up in these islands told us about it and I was very curious.
Climate change. The innkeeper said, “You must have noticed since your last trip here, we are losing land.”
The cook overheard me ask, “Are people going to be upset if we’re down there taking a bunch of pictures?”
“We’ve had some trouble, you know.” She said, “They are stealing identities of the dead.”
“Oh, really?” I said, “I think that’s how Trump won the election.” She doubled over laughing.
Some of the dates on the graves were old.
But some of the ones in the water were as recent as the 1980s.
I saw a bone.
It could have been from an animal.
I thought I should take a picture of the bone because no one would believe me.
But it felt disrespectful, so I didn’t do it.
(no photo)
Photos by: Daniel Overberger and Nancy Winebarger
Leaving Stress Behind 