The Choice
The moon daily lights up the earth without fail,
No one worries that its light will fail us any day,
She serves her earthly subjects daily without pay,
She serves her subjects daily without delay,
The light of the moon does not discriminate,
The light of the moon does not cause pain,
Yet
The subjects of the moon discriminate,
The subjects of the moon cause pain,
Oh what a calamity it will be should the moon refuse to share its light,
Oh what a dark and strange night it will be without the moonlight in the sky,
Is life possible without the moon’s light?
Will our nights be the same without the moon’s light?
Is life possible without discrimination?
Will our life be the same without bigotry?
Should man choose the light of the moon or the darkness of bigotry?
Is this really a choice for the moon’s subjects?
Or
Is the choice for bigots to become like the moonlight?
by Michael Heslop (2016)
Friends and Foes
When friends are foes and foes are friends,
Confusion reigns in the minds of those who fail to know their friends,
When friends are foes and foes are friends,
The interests of freedom’s foes are disguised as those of freedom’s friends,
When friends are foes and foes are friends,
Devils in power rule with ease those they fool to be their friends,
When friends are foes and foes are friends,
Those at the bottom of the pile are screwed by poison in their minds
For
Embracing their foes as their friends,
And
Revolutions to end oppression are delayed though not derailed,
When friends are foes and foes are friends,
Those who fight for justice cannot rest
Until
Those who are foes become known as foes of justice
And
Those friends of justice are celebrated as friends,
So
When foes are visibly foes of Freedom
And
Those who love freedom are NEVER shy to defend it,
Then
Freedom’s friends will never be confused with its foes
And
Revolution will win and Oppression will be doomed!
Because
Those who celebrate Revolution are the friends of Freedom
And
Those who mourn the death of Oppression are the foes of Freedom!!
by Michael Heslop (2016)
Xango
the god Xango was conceived in love and rises to destroy the world
hail
there is new breath here
huh
there is a sound of sparrows
erzulie with her green wings
feathers sheen of sperm
hah
there is a west wind here
open eyes
sails
the conch shell sings
hallelujahs
oooh
I take you love
at last my love
my night my dreams my Africa
softly of cheek now
sweat of pillow
thigh of thorn
tender to your fire
we make with salt this moisture
vision
we make from vision
black and bone and sound
hah
there is a tree here
a boy with knotted snakes and coffin
a child with watercourses valleys clotted blood
look
these tendrils knitted to the green un-
pearl and walk
the earth on which he steps breaks forth in tears
the rose is his
the bamboo clumps are his
the bougainvillea bells
listen
his syllables taste of wood
of cedar lignum vitae phlanx
these gutterals are his own
mon general mon frere
his childhood of a stone is rolled away
he rings from bells of bone his liberated day
and all this while he smiles
carved terra cotta
high life/ing in Abomey
he has learned to live with rebellions
book and bribe and bomb
blast and the wrecked village
he is earning his place in the corner
phantom jet flight of angels
computer conjure man
he embraces them all
for there is green at the root of his bullet
michelangelo working away at the roof of his
murderous rocket
he anointeth the sun with oil. hallelujah
star tick star tick cricket clock click
and his blues will inherit the world
he comes inward from the desert
with the sheriffs
he flows out of the rivers out of the water-
toilets with shrimp and the moon’s monthly oysters
he comes up over the hill
with gravediggers
he walks in the streets
with moonlight with whistles with police kleghorns
with the whore's pisstle
after so many twists
after so many journeys
after so many changes
bop hard bop soul bop funk
new thing coltrane marley soul rock skank
bunk johnson is ridin again
after so many turns
after so many failures
greet him
he speaks
so softly near you
hear him
he teaches
face and faith
and how to use your seed and soul and lissom
touch him
he smiles
hold him
he rages
murder him
he shatters you
your thunder has come home
by: Kamau Brathwaite
GOOD-BYE DEREK WALCOTT
One of my absolute favourite poems is Derek Walcott's "The Schooner Flight"-- the opening poem in the Walcott collection entitled "The Star-Apple Kingdom".
This classic Walcott poem is an extended meditation on the predicament and promise of our Caribbean Civilization as manifested in the tragic life story of "Shabine'- a "red nigger who love the sea", and who out of desperation ships "as a seaman on the schooner Flight" for a defining sea voyage that takes him from Trinidad in the south of the Caribbean to the innumerable islands of the Bahamas in the north, and ultimately to his death.
In recent times, whenever I travel outside of my island home I somehow feel compelled to take the text of "The Schooner Flight" with me-- perhaps for the purpose of reminding myself of the plight and beauty and potential of our Caribbean Civilization.
I can think of no better way to express a public "good-bye" to Derek Walcott than by quoting the following passage from "The Schooner Flight" :-
"Fall gently, rain, on the sea's upturned face
like a girl showering; make these islands fresh
as Shabine once knew them! Let every trace,
every hot road, smell like clothes she just press
and sprinkle with drizzle........................
Though my Flight never pass the incoming tide
of this inland sea beyond the loud reefs
of the final Bahamas, I am satisfied
if my hand gave voice to one people's grief.
Open the map. More islands there, man
than peas on a tin plate, all different size,
one thousand in the Bahamas alone,
from mountains to low scrub with coral keys,
and from this bowsprit, I bless every town,
the blue smoke in hills behind them,
and the one small road winding down them like twine
to the roofs below; I have only one theme:
The bowsprit, the arrow, the longing, the lunging heart---
the flight to a target whose aim we'll never know,
vain search for one island that heals with its harbor
and a guiltless horizon..................
There are so many islands!
As many islands as the stars at night
on that branched tree from which meteors are shaken
like falling fruit around the schooner Flight.
But things must fall, and so it always was,
on one hand Venus, on the other Mars;
fall, and are one, just as this earth is one
island of archipelagoes of stars.
My first friend was the sea. Now is my last.
I stop talking now...........
...............and the moon open
a cloud like a door, and the light over me
is a road in white moonlight taking me home."
Thank you Derek Walcott. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
DAVID COMISSIONG