Cry From the Rim

Where the water washes white surfs across Sand banks porous with green dreams in our hearts Where the sun surveys the wet desert of loss The salt thread like blood stitching together our parts Find me there wandering the wailing shores I am a new citizen with ancient desires still Living on the restless rim of of crinkled azures; Watching history bleach my memory of will. Here I pine to see my mother whole as I am Here I pray for justice from the impaled lamb This Caribbean sea that pens my rage in me Water where my ancestors footsteps no imprints leave Of vast voyages now void on the Atlantic lea This Caribbean sea in modern voice I cannot grieve My people sundered like a broken ship Mastless, anchorless, drifting drumless on weed My people bleeding from tongue lash and whip And no Cudjoe, Tacky, or Boukman to intercede I am a citizen of the rim, a place undefined In the subtle representations where I'm maligned. Here in this world of diverse languages and shade Across the bloodless salt of shrivelled water we trade.