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Caribbean prayers in the drip of British coldness
Khadijah
Do you see me?
Sankofa
stirring rituals of memory
cast out of deep ocean magic
inscriptions to recall
rhythmic sounds
of a cartographer’s feet moving
to anchor father’s dreams
of back home
baptized in mother’s tears
and a holy ancestral spirit
I soar in all shades of the moonlight
body spinning truth
as if the storm and wind
evoke my skin
to remember
a soul molasses softly man
a tuff drum reggae man
a bronze like man
birthed from old
Caribbean prayers
in the drip of British coldness
my body a well-made vessel
that holds posture and beauty
limbs like tree roots
wheels knowledge
to come again
to a sound track
of life