by M. James Cooper
The only island to stand on its feet, and the ocean around it followed suit. Before the salted liquid knew who Moses was, before Jesus came, Blanchicheusse existed. Before cars could take them, the people crawled to the top to see its beautied beaches, turquoise green/blues and flecks of silver, a pristine sands. 'Oh lawd God! Is he who make it so yuh know!' Up the west side and down the east, no one even noticed Toco's offering as they traveled to and from, for it paled in comparison.
They were small beings then, and had developed hands that supported them vertically, as feet would, had Trinidad continued to lay on her backside. Agitating the other islands to a state of hyper jealousy. Their wicked stares did nothing but make this oddity a desire, why could they not stand on their feet? This upright island was so anti nature, this un-normal place that produced a new people, never eradicated, after years of pillaging destruction, it seemed as if the only way for it to survive was to cease its blind acceptance of what was, and stand, erect. This is what made the waters follow: as if courting mate, as if infatuated lover, basking in His amazing way, She swore to stay by His side; She abandoned the warm hands of Sun and cleaved to His standing pride...
