In the Cradle of the Caribbean

We forgot what we had, the magnitude of what we created, despite being in the bowels of dehumanization from which we exited screaming, washed free of the past. We were barefoot, but we knew our path. Our hunger was sated by the humble coalpot and fruit from yuh granny laden tree. You were scolded by the maco in the village, but they were your sentinel too. You were taught by someone wielding a ruler for licks, but they were just as quick to feed you, wash yuh face free of yampee, hug yuh hard dressed in your starched uniform and whitened washykongs. Penny iceblock was a luxury. Swallowing chilli bibi in a hurry had yuh t’inkin’ yuh had asthma. Schoolyard games of Moral and Peter Mash Line had yuh laughing, conniving, strategizin’. The cradle of the Caribbean. Rock on…

© IC Blackman 2018