Going to Hatiya Island

At first sight of our island, I confess

I've been known to cry

Trying to conceal it, blaming morning mist

Dabbing laughter from my eye

When she appears, wafer thin

Horizon-painted sliver

Out beyond the nearer shoals

Where cowboys camp in mangrove damp

On oceanic river

As engine drones and current swirls

Add passenger commotion

On the deck must be I'll stand

Buried in emotion

The last stretch to our island, I confess

Nags and irritates

Stomach birds are pecking; bovine calm on show

While Arcadia awaits

See the dolphins arch and play

Jaunty river chase

But never can diversion hold

As edgy heart is churned apart

By that impending place

As ship moves on too slow by far

Begging time to quicken

Buoyed by rusted rail I will

Horizon line to thicken

To reach our island's shore, I confess

Could spur one to rage

Crowding on the staircase: chickens, betel, fish

Feeling trapped inside a cage

So near, so far, gangplank down

Porters push and hustle

Time is pain, can't reach the shore

How locals go the locals know

Through Tomoruddin bustle

Finally I walk the plank

A risky situation

Plant my feet on riverbank

Engulfed in mud-elation

Andrew Eagle is an English instructor and feature writer of The Daily Star.