My Sister & I Are Picking Mangoes

again in Mum’s debris garden. Our tropical life has been
entropically re-coloured since the hurricane passed. She
came to help us & the hourglass days, turning over & over,
are often sublimely beautiful & surreal; brown pleasuring

to green/yellow/red; starred silver indigo, far too visible.
This beloved mango tree is recovery; she has us in awe
with her constant, almost embarrassing, fruit full giving.
I hold my husband’s green fishing net: I know what it’s

like to fall, bruise, split skin & expose flesh all the way
down to bone-white seed, so I pull down & catch; save
some mangoes from this fate. I imagine though the fruit
innately sense my nonsense; knowing there is no sin in

falling—grow, fall, feed ground/gut, grow again, repeat
infinitely. Brown hands pick up any spoilt grounded fruit,
toss them in the grown green gutter. Our aim? Deter flies

from hovering around; seeding worms into ripening fruit.

by Celia A. Sorhaindo

Dominican Poet

During the process of creating this work I turned to poetry and that lead me eventually to Celia. We separately but somehow together tried to make sense of our surrounding.

She generously offered her ongoing work for exposure together with the portraits in Roseau, the capital of Dominica.

Since then, she published the poetry pamphlet with the pieces that were born after Hurricane Maria.

To see it and her previous work please follow this or this link.

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