M/s Quin’s latest collection of poems and reflections are a history of life she lived, life she lives now and life of the future she worries about.

“Seasons on the Edge of Memory” is an apt title for a book that she has written in her advancing years – Brenda was born in 1928 in the hills of Mandeville, Jamaica – and the first 45 pages are poems that show her at her best. Her passion comes forth in droves as she speaks about life, the awe she has for God’s creativity. From distant stars down to tiny insects. They all have a place in God’s world and in hers. You can hear her crying as she sees the life and beauty she knew being destroyed by greed and her despair at what the future holds. There is nothing she can do about it but there is anger at the blind young people around her who could do something but don’t. She wonders if they care.

The last 30 pages are her jottings of her personal life from her time in Jamaica, her 9 years in Bermuda and her 48 years in the place she now calls home, the Cayman Islands.

Don’t be fooled into believing her poems are a collection of pretty, pretty things. She lures you into believing they are at the beginning. At the end there is often a question, a sigh, or a piece of barbed wire.

An example of this is her poem called “The Game of Darts”

It starts “A dart is a dangerous weapon to be handled with greatest care”.

We have three verses devoted to the game and then we come to the last line –

“Watch out whoever you are,

He will soon be in charge, you

Don’t stand a chance.”

Another of her poems “Life #2 starts with:

“Do not walk away or laugh

when I talk of the olden times,

tell you the old stories,

for they are a part of you

as they are of me.”

A “Jotting” states:

“Let your days float on sea waves of joy and buoyancy.”

Her first poem in the book, “Time” sets the tone and style of the rest:

“The trickster I chase,

but capture not, running

always faster, ever onwards.”

Her final poem “Midnight” asks the question (that she answers)

What is this life, through

which we stumble

as sleep walkers, waiting

for fulfillment of our

dreams, and our desires?”

The poem that is the basis of the book title “On the Edge of Memory” opens with:

On the edge of memory

before recorded time

my soul travelled

many paths, learning the

wisdom of the elders.’

Later in the verse it says, “ …. before the white man came,

not to learn, but to kill and steal their land.”

Even in her last pages of jottings (one tells a story I did not hear about of a US Drug enforcement officer being shot and killed by a member of the mafia with a connection here in Cayman) the one called “Disappearing” asks the poignant question:

“Where is the Island that once we knew – and the Caymanian people, the backbone of this place? They lived life happily, peacefully. Theirs was a hard life, but always, they had time to smile, reach out to each other, go to their ‘grounds’, harvesting their crops, sharing, and worshipping their God with love and thanksgiving.”

“Where is the Cayman that we knew? ……high rise monstrosities, … the Wet Lands destroyed ….. Where have we all gone and where are we going? …….. what is the good of this so called progress, when we have lost the island we knew as home?”

There is hope. Her final jotting called “This I believe” ends with”

“I believe when I finally leave this body, there is no death, the soul and love are eternal, and those people we have known and loved, who have gone before us are never far away, but continue to be with us always.”

The book is a real treasure. A gem of the highest quality. When I started to read it I couldn’t put it down.

If you need a copy contact me at iNews Cayman at 916-4594 and I will put you in contact with the author.

It is beautiful and that is because the author is.

I leave you with the final verse of Life #2

“It is only by knowing the

past, that you will one day

know yourself, and understand

from whence you came.”