You would never believe what life was like, almost,
During Aristide’s tenure. Land almost went
To whom it belonged, knocking the rich off balance,
Like the shock of a sucker punch. So what would it be like
To sit on your porch and look over a valley of mangos
And not worry about where your next egg or goat
Was coming from? You would sit and drink rum and Coke
Like the blancs who come from up north and Europe,
Smoking their cigarettes, playing cards, and writing
The great whatever novel. You could never believe
What life would be like if you were free to vote
Without worrying about an unmarked man
With a gas can and a tire approaching you
From an alley and asking if you voted for the Marxist
Who was redistributing land and blocking drug traffic.
You almost never would believe what life could be.
Tim Gavin is an Episcopal priest, serving as a school chaplain at The Episcopal Academy. He leads the school’s partnership with Haiti and is overseeing the construction of a school in the Central Plateau of Haiti. His poems have appeared in various journals, including Anglican Theological Review, Black Water, Review, Poet Lore, Wind, and Yarrow. He lives with his wife and 2 sons.