Contrasts

The following poem was written from a beach chair while on my honeymoon in Cuba. I couldn't get over the incredible contrasts I noticed throughout the country, and attempted to write something that would accurately capture what I experienced during our week on this unique Caribbean island. 

A seaside resort,

a plethora of hospitality,

a hundred people basking in warmth

under shaded huts and palm trees.

A decrepit shack,

a street of gates,

an aging horse tied to a fence

frantically trying to find a meal.

A smiling server,

a wealth of tips,

a hundred staff catering to the

rich tourists' every whim.

A military uniform,

a limbless beggar,

a fading population of heart-

hardened Cubans trying to survive.

This is a country of contrasts.

Of those who come to escape,

and those who long to run away.

It is a country of wealth,

of poverty,

of communist ideals mixed with

sea, sun and endless struggle.

A rich man,

a poor man,

an endless surge of people

longing for something better

than what they have today.