My mom who raised me was born in Haiti. I personally visited Haiti when I was five. I was rather impress with the various fruit trees. My favorite are the coconut and mango trees. I love riding the horses. I cherish the scences at the beached. Yes, it is a poverty country still you could fill the positive hope and belief’s of the Haitian people there.
JACQUELINE MARIE RACSTER DESTINE
DECEMBER 31, 1932 – JANUARY 29, 1982
There’s a girl named Marie. She carries a fruit basket on her head in Haiti. the scorching lemon sun will make you think, maybe, so Marie takes a break under a mango tree. She views the semi-nude women scrubbing their clothes against the water and rocks. Their sweat grows while the heat tick-tocks. Marie enjoys the beach, but the golden china doll knows her destination she must reach. the small, short, modest princess smiles as she remembers what her mother teaches. Marie walks faster as she obeys what her father preaches.
The curious young maid studies the horses and the busy bosses. The roads are packed while the hungry are attacked. As her oval cocoa beans swell with tears, she realizes no one cares. Marie has great fear, fear that Haiti will be bare. “Why should this heaven be dead?” Marie said. She’s angry because no one read. The emerald rosebud feels there’s a spirituality of dread. Marie continues to sense the atmosphere as she climbs up and down the lime /olive mountain. Marie thinks to herself as she derives, “If only we had new fountains, we could rejuvenate all the mountains.”
Haiti can be embellished. People will relish. Marie feels famished. Brown rice with ruby kidney beans, a sirloin steak that’s lean. Oh yes, don’t forget the fried banana that’s green. Marie feels like a queen. she is proud of Haiti. “So what if people didn’t think it’s flashy or thought it’s trashy!” she proclaims. “They individual fought for their independence with a spiritual dance. The Haitians won. It was a freedom song!” Marie finishes her dinner. She wants to be a winner. The blooming rose leaves the crafty lady. The Creole woman always cooks outside and is sort of shady. ‘Thank you ,Madame,” says Marie as he continues in her path. She now fears her father’s wrath.
“I love to be educated, so I will go to school and graduate. I will not be some peasant instead I will be the president!” exclaims the sweet-scented rose out loud. Marie say it straight to the fluffy white clouds. Her father spots her approaching the house. His anger is douse. The muscual giant asks, “Marie! Marie! Marie! What took you so long in you travels in Haiti.
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