Haiti right now is
clean, slippery floors,
cheek pressed kisses and
everything upstairs. A guesthouse
that is my own,
permanent hotel living.
Haiti is puffs of smoke and
charcoal stoves, sips of
rum and bottles of bleach. Haiti is
nothing, yet. Need more seconds, more
steps forward and over.
My heart
hurts
still.
Will it ever stop? Will
Haiti....
will Haiti...
I don't know.
To do:
Learn Kreole,
then
fix heart.
