I’ve seen that shape so often
that I recognise it now
my Soufrière is right here
together with its clouds,
purple with heavy rain

I’m here, but what about this child ?
I’m there,
sitting on a concrete boundary stone
it’s cool at the foot of the estate
the wind creases the fan
of the traveller’s tree
and messes up my hair

Paris-Fleur d’Epée
I’m here
and my flamboyant trees bloom  pink
here only
here only no matter how well I know it
over there they are red !

 

May 3, 2006
the screams of slavery were so loud that
they were heard in Paris
I get closer to them, so close
and yet no one acknowledges me
in the end everything is turned upside down
the nation encompasses the rite
all saints’day candles, the sun sets,
but who’s dead in the end ?

goods, cattle,
valuables, assets, what else now ?
the indigo got washed away
a toxic blue remains
it has to stand for the sea, and reminds me of over there
I drink it as if my life depended on it