La Trinitaria

Columbus was the beginning, caravels cresting over cor-

al, usurping canoes control of the crests, each rippling roll rock-

ing him closer to the exotic East.  Each tear was worth the glor-

y of the find in the name of God for the sake of gold.  They mock-

ed in Portugal, but when land (oh finally, land!) bid their seek-

ing end, Portugal could only tip its hat.  Columbus would sail

again.  Columbus was the beginning, he saw triplet hills peak-

ing out from the emerald isle’s southern shore.  Behold!  Sailors, all hail!

No isle is truly godforsaken, give thanks for His majesty,

these three hills awash in blooms, arching heavenwards in certain praise

state His glory.  This land I name, La Trinitaria, holy

Trinity.  Let’s alight now and claim her in the name of God’s grace.

Columbus was the end, caravels crashing crudely over cor-

al, usurping canoes claim to the crests, each sullen swelling rock-

ing him closer to the pristine West Isles.  Tears would pay for the glor-

y of the find in the name of God for the sake of gold.  They mock

him in island schools now, fumbling for the East Indies like one who

couldn’t find his hat in the dark so he put on the cat instead.

Columbus was the end.  He left the quiet dawns behind, left too

a strange new religion, new gold mines, new laws and a people dead.

Ieri- Land of the Hummingbird, give no thanks for majesty

or those three hills awash in blooms, arching skyward only to praise

nature’s glory.  He renamed you La Trinitaria, holy

Trinity, and then conquered and claimed you in the name of God’s grace.