I am fueled by wanderlust. It has carried me to foreign lands and across North America, but also throughout my home state of Texas: 268,500 square miles, a landmass larger than any nation in the European Union. With its ten distinct ecoregions and a culture shaped by immigrants from more than 100 countries, Texas continues to surprise me. I never tire of exploring its landscapes, its history, and its many secrets.
This is the first poem in an upcoming book, Visions of the Lone Star State. I hope you enjoy it!
Galveston
I come for the breeze along the seawall,
the gulls calling above the spray,
the Pleasure Pier bright against the water,
immersed in that peculiar island light
that makes another century feel close at hand.
I walk the Strand past windows and balconies,
their cast-iron railings weathered by salt and sun.
Along Broadway, Ashton Villa keeps its secrets,
Moody Mansion, its mahogany and crystal,
as afternoon gilds what time left behind.
I can feel the old city underneath,
the port, the money, the music, the names,
the grand hotels of the Wall Street of the South,
a place with the whole world at its doorstep,
the Gulf glittering beyond.
Then, on September eighth, 1900, the wind became a wall,
and the sea rose over streets and rooftops.
Houses splintered, whole blocks vanished beneath the water,
and thousands were carried into the darkness,
while dawn found the city counting what remained.
Still, Galveston refused to disappear.
It carries its scars, hangs lights, opens doors;
and when evening settles over the island,
the worn grandeur looks different in the light,
because some places become beautiful by surviving.
Krin Van Tatenhove has been a cleric, community organizer, and nonprofit director. His 40 years of professional writing experience have led to countless articles and 19 books. You can download many of these books for free on this website or find him at his Amazon author’s page. He lives with his wife and disabled son in San Antonio, Texas
