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Poem

Olive Senior

Side by side

Original language

The birth of islands

The birth of islands

The birth of islands

Fire at the core
Necklace of ash, stone, coral.
Islands emerge, submerge or shift
with continental drift. Islands
are not immortal. Without you,
islands could never be. You
are the portal. Islands are born
from your longings.

See how easy:
The spoon stirs up the void
Seabird drops its egg
A sand-grain launches itself

You blow breath on the ocean

Something breaks out on the face of the water

Publisher: First published on PIW,

Olive Senior

Olive Senior

(Jamaica, 1943)

Olive Senior worked in journalism in Jamaica and Canada, and lives alternately in both countries. She spends much of her time giving readings and conducting workshops internationally. She has been writer in residence or visiting international writer at Universities in Canada, the West Indies, Britain and the United States.

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moon

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Yard Fowl

hurricane story, 1988

meditation on yellow

The birth of islands

Close

The birth of islands

Fire at the core
Necklace of ash, stone, coral.
Islands emerge, submerge or shift
with continental drift. Islands
are not immortal. Without you,
islands could never be. You
are the portal. Islands are born
from your longings.

See how easy:
The spoon stirs up the void
Seabird drops its egg
A sand-grain launches itself

You blow breath on the ocean

Something breaks out on the face of the water

The birth of islands

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