I Remember ...
Sweat dripping from every pore as if I were being sucked dry by the air.
I remember the effort: the weight of every breath,
Breathing without strength to draw in the thickened soup of fetid atmosphere.
I remember the hate: the hate and the despair,
Men existing without living, condemned to a life that was no life.
I remember.
C'est la vie. C'est le bain.
I remember.
Three dark islands, sweltering in a empty sea.
Rising out of the waters without the courtesy of beaches,
Dark tree lines all along the water's edge:
And the sound of the insects, constant, chittering, never still
Always silent.
I remember.
Port Royale, where men sweated, and men died,
Carving a living from a piece of hell, driven by the whip and the lash:
St. Joseph, the place of punishment,
Felons stacked in stark cells, sweating with fever and other, harsher things:
And the island itself -
Ile du Diable. The place of no return.
They had it better than most;
The Devil's guests, dining at his table because they had chosen to speak
Or worse. Men denied the civil liberties of life by other men.
Political reasons.
They had gardens of their own, and freedom to labour for themselves.
I only went a few times, tossed on an angry sea when the tides were right,
Serving as an aide to a Doctor who simply wanted to go home.
As I did.
But that option was denied me then; and I shared the hollow emptiness of those men's eyes.
Knowing that there was no choice but to endure.
I remember.
I remember the hospital, a place of stink and death.
Patients vomiting their own stomachs because they were empty of everything else.
The shiverers and shakers, riddled with fever and malaria;
Those brought down from days of punishment,
Dehydrated by the sweat boxes, backs torn open by the lash,
Eyes eager for the release of death.
And the hard men.
I remember the hard men, fighting to make the kingdom of hell their own.
Squabbling over minor territory and power while their masters smiled
And said nothing.
When they overstepped the line
She was waiting.
Sleek and cold in the sunlight.
Oiled every day.
I remember.
I remember her kiss on my own neck and wonder that she never claimed me.
She claimed so many, there in the jungle.
A fit punishment. A swift and certain end.
For everyone but myself.
I remember the humiliation of each and every day,
Guarding the means of my survival in bitter, intimate places
While bored and disgusted servants of the law searched and confiscated
Everything that they found.
I remember the order of things, men who were strong having the edge
Over the weak.
They took what they could, and other men gave it to them;
Lovers and victims, sinking to the lowest simply to survive.
I remember.
I remember those who sought my protection
Because they thought I was strong,
And the others, who desired power over me.
I gave neither willingly.
There was no victory in my submissions, no reward in my kindnesses:
I survived, and accounted every moment, recovered every favour,
Revenged each insult -
Until they left me alone.
A cold man, with cold eyes, set on what was to be, not was was;
My compassion I saved for those caught in innocence
Yet was never caught offering it.
I remember the dying and those I saved.
Some only to die later, cursing me for returning them to hell.
Others were grateful; they were few.
And there were those who died under my hand;
Alone in the night, their suffering reducing their dignity
To nothing,
I released them to face judgement from a fairer jury
Than ever those who condemned them.
Their deaths were kindnesses and I never regretted them;
Them, or the quiet few who worshipped death by cruelty and found it in an avenging hand.
I was never caught, never seen on those missions of mercy.
Maybe I wanted to be: She would have been my punishment
And we were not strangers, She and I.
Stay low and silent.
Make no waves or fuss.
The hand of the Devil passes over you; trick him, outwit him but do not tempt his fate -
The cost of his hospitality is high.
I remember.
In the quiet warmth of the night I wake and remember;
Gentle moonlight drifting in through shutters, carrying the scent of another sea.
I have found a home here: a home and friendships I treasure above all things.
Because I remember.
I remember le bain.
I remember Devil's Island.
And I never forget that it was the price I paid to be free.
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