Melissa, You Break the Heart of the Caribbean
Melissa—oh wicked wind in borrowed rage,
You came not to bless, but to break and betray.
From Montego Bay to St. Elizabeth’s shore,
You tore the rhythm from Jamaica’s core.
The drums fell silent beneath your roar,
Fishermen’s nets lay tangled on the floor.
You mocked our prayers rising to Jah above,
And trampled the gardens we tended with love.
Bob’s voice rose from the grave, pleading still—
“Cool down, sister storm, remember Zion’s will.”
But you, heartless tempest, deaf to redemption’s song,
Turned “One Love” to mourning all night long.
Grandmothers clutched their grandchildren tight,
Whispering psalms through the howling night.
Fathers stood guard at splintering doors,
While mothers wept on water-logged floors.
Children’s laughter drowned beneath the surge,
Blue Mountain peaks echoed a funeral dirge.
Banana groves bent low, roots crying out,
Breadfruit trees uprooted by wind and doubt.
Tin roofs flew like shattered wishes cast,
Zinc sheets singing requiems as they passed.
Market stalls—where ackee and saltfish once sold—
Now float like coffins in waters cold.
In Port Antonio, a woman cradles her Bible, soaked,
Her life’s savings stolen by currents provoked.
In Spanish Town, a man digs through mud and stone,
Searching for photos—all he has left of home.
You danced with lightning upon Kingston’s crest,
Ripped the very soul from the island’s chest.
Our hearts now beat like drums without skin,
Hollow echoes of the pain within.
The Taino spirits stir beneath the earth,
Mourning this land they knew from birth.
Even the mongoose hides from your wrath,
And hummingbirds flee your violent path.
Oh Melissa, your name shall linger in dread—
Written in mud, whispered among the dead.
The Caribbean wails one ancient refrain:
“Why must paradise be baptized in pain?”
Yet Jah sees, though your fury blinds the night,
He will calm the sea, restore the light.
From Trench Town to the hills of Manchester high,
Faith shall rise where your destruction lie.
For every palm you shattered and flung,
A new one shall grow, and freedom songs be sung.
We are the children of survival’s art,
Storm-tested people with unbroken heart.
But hear this truth, Melissa, as we rebuild from your scar:
We remember exactly who you are.
You came with violence, left with regret—
The Caribbean’s grief will never forget.
For the islands who weep, who rise, who endure.
For Jamaica—battered but unbroken, her spirit still pure.
.
.Pierre Richard Raymond
Boukan News Haitan-American Journalist
My heart goes out to out to the Caribbean people that have suffered greatly due to nature’s cruel events.
I hope their recovery is swift and can get people back to some normalcy.
Mr. Raymond has been a friend and mentor to me for many years and I know his heart is now broken.
I didn’t know you were such a great poet. You wrote briefly about the tainos. In Haiti we lost more than 20 people including babies. In Petit Goave, Jacmel and les Cayes.
Nevertheless you are a great poet. Can I say I am proud of my former student? Yes. Indeed I am.