Wednesday, May 11, 2016


Over the last few years, I've been given opportunities to perform at events in and around my island. In some cases I write an original poem for the event. This poem was written for a fashion design competition that was called Afrosentric.

One of the organizers wanted a spoken word performer speaking with background music as dancers danced. Another organizer had seen me perform at Soothe had suggested me. As I knew the first organizer, I had an in.

What I found amusing was the fact that I've turned my back on what I studied at college, Fashion Design, and I turn around and am performing at a fashion event. It still tickles me to think about it.

Anyway this introduction as grown too long, so here is the poem:

Traveling across
A sea of sand,
A man as dark
As the sun is bright
Adjusts his turban
And looks to the
Horizon, seeing
Nothing but sand
And somehow he
Finds comfort here.

Women dance under
The full moon,
Their hands reaching
High to the cloudless
Sky as the drums
Beat a rhythm
That is echoed in
Their hearts, in
Their souls. It was
The music that brought
Them to their feet,
To the dance.

Children laugh
Despite the emptiness
Of their stomachs,
They laugh.
Despite the poverty
That surrounds them,
They laugh.
Despite the many tears
That have fallen and
Will fall,
They laugh.

This land beyond
The horizon is not
Only deserts, grasslands
And jungles,
It is cities with
Buildings that try to
Touch the sky.
Technology and commerce
Fitting neatly in the palm
Of one's hand.

This land, so far
And yet so near
To us all.

It is near
When we look
At the reflection
In the mirror.

It is near
When we break
Out into song,
In our voices.

It is near
In the food we eat,
The way we speak,
The names we give our children,
The way the rhythm,
Any rhythm, flows
In and through us.

It is so far
And yet it
Is ingrained
In every cell
Of our being.

Our being,
The beings of
The stolen children,
Taken and forced
To toil in a land
That, too, was stolen
And yet they would
Have us believe that
It was discovered.

Despite our abduction,
We survived,
We survived enslavement,
We survived poverty,
We survived adapting
To a freedom that
Was not even a dream
To our parents.

And through this fire,
A new people was forged.
A Caribbean people,
But never do we forget
Our past, our history,
And the fact that
We are the children
Of Africa. We
Are not just Caribbean people
We are Afro-Caribbean people.

Our past proves
That we are a
Resilient people,
A creative people,
A people capable
Of everything and

We have accomplished
So much in spite
Of our painful
Beginnings, we have
Created champions,
Artists, intellects, dancers,
Singers, designers and
The list goes on
And on and on.

And as the future
Extends beyond
The edge of our horizons,
There is so much
We can achieve,
We, the stolen children
Of Africa, we, the

Although our leaders
Wish to return us
To slavery under
The moniker of jobs
Where we bow our heads
In servitude to
People with pale skins
And green bills.

We, the people, can choose
To be different.
We, the people,
Can show those who
Think we are only
Capable of laboring
Under the dictates
Of those who don't
Even look like us,
That we are better
Than this.

We, the people,
Can show the world
That we are creators,
Innovators, masters
Of industry and
Much, much more.

And tonight
We link our past
With our future.
Our past, Africa.
Our future,
A new generation
Of designers.
And that link,
That bridge,
We call


P.S. In this piece, I took a shot at the local politicians and would you know it the Minister of Culture was standing in front of me.

P.P.S. Will post the video within the coming week.

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