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CARIBBEAN POEM
One Caribbean Out of Slavery
KNOW YOU, BE YOU, SEE YOU AND REMEMBER YOU

By 23yr old St. Lucian Poet Stephen A. Dantes    (Aug 2006)
 
Poem dedicated to the unity of Caribbean people.
                                                                                                      
I walk on a road paved by blood of the weak and helpless
Leading to a destination alien to my being as I’m restless.
A slap of shame and disgrace hits my face as the fraternity sinks in an ocean of hypocrisy
Taken one at a time;
Yet to be hurled out with the inclination of pretence in the absence of integrity and honesty.
Tears trickle down faces furrowed with years of hope and want
Still, the advent of prosperity is unseen to eyes opened wide shut;
Eyes prejudice to the colour of black as white infests the inner core
Of pupil and retina forbidden to be true.

I stop on the road to discontinue a journey marked out by a system oppressively ranting out behests
To realize that there was no mind in me functioning as I will
But that I had become a statistic like all those who continued on that road.
In the name of constitution and morality
My conscience bleeds a blood injected in the shadows of opportunity.
With no stop signs or lane divisions,
The pelt of the innocent is no walk of grace on a road that connects no defined place;

 Or space for that matter, as one’s dream is to dictate the path he takes and guide the decision he makes.
Ends truly justify means
But shall the mental incarceration tyrannically bestowed upon us be pruned to quintessence thus forgetting our mission for a vision?
I look around me on the road and realize that I walk alone.
I see no end or beginning.
Nor do I remember why I walk

I begin to suffocate on air rich in enmity towards the essence of my existence.
They taught us to be someone else.
Laughter echoed in my eardrums as the reverb of spoilt croons whistled down my bones to render me helpless.
I screamed!!!.............................. Then I saw it.
Then I knew.

Infant school, primary school, secondary school, tertiary school brought me for it.
It took me, to commemorate a bloodstained road with the sweat of my brow.  
The emancipation of my enslaved mentality has made me the chooser of my own destiny, the maker of my own bed, the provider for my wanting soul, the director of my will in action.

My journey ended… before it started.
The system annihilated… before I was born.
The road was painted… before it was constructed
My hope thus needed the mellow sweet sound of purpose to breath.

It took me, to be me.
Will it take you, to make you?

One People
Under God

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