My heart just broke a little, in a good way. It was a normal Friday morning and I was working, listening to some music while doing some research. My colleague asked me to come into her office for a meeting with a well-dressed young man. He wore a bright-coloured shirt and a tie, both adorned with pins of the Jamaican flag, and black pants. He was slight and carried a plastic accordion file folder. He explained that he was a writer, unemployed for now after working awhile in the service industry. He had no formal education but managed to teach himself a second language in his spare time in addition to writing prolifically. He was looking for work, walked by and saw the sign for Youth Opportunities Unlimited and was wondering if there were any for him. He told us his father left him when he was young and he grew up in Kingston’s inner-city.

He then pulled out a sheaf of papers and handed me several pages. I read and my heart started breaking. His poetry was innovative, aching, beautiful, unique and so honest. I told him so and told him that I know well how hard it is to show your writing, basically your soul, to another human being. He said it was the first time he had done so, with me and my colleague.

We are hopeful he will be in touch with us again, as there are indeed opportunities here for him. I say my heart broke for many reasons- his sheer courage, his honesty, his determination and the beauty of his soul. In his pitch to us of what he has to offer, he said that he grew up in the inner-city, where things often appear hopeless, but that he knows that there is still, and always will be, hope. He later came back to give me some hard copies of his poetry. I wondered why he didn’t just email them to me and it occurred to me that he likely does not have regular access to a computer. I can’t stop thinking about him.