Willow Walk

turning from the ashes

o this is measure of the past long dead

a memory of fears that judgment set

in fading colours but without regret

the ancient dragon is still being fed

is satiated in its golden bed

in full repayment of each human debt

accept this vision do not get upset

you are not paid for suffering or dread

what we are taught will not serve as a guide

on the new road the old maps have been lost

though for some sign we have for so long yearned

the message comes to buckle for the ride

accept the risks and wait to learn the cost

for now we see the forest has been burned

i saw life

this marks the spot where silence had to fall

one sunny afternoon when it was cold

no part of this that i could have foretold

 

the passage into night slows to a crawl

each missive seems to fit in a neat fold

this marks the spot where silence had to fall

 

into its place the world became so small

but there was nothing there we had to hold

just a bright girl who never would turn old

this marks the spot where silence had to fall

the course of desire

those who have chosen the course of desire

find that the road is never straight or plain

know with light heart it leads only to fire

 

some other soul might have been a high-flyer

grown absolute in wisdom and urbane

those who have chosen the course of desire

 

do not much better nor will reach much higher

than those who held to ordinary plane

know with light heart it leads only to fire

 

but still pursue the true vision entire

with all the sense that they join on campaign

those who have chosen the course of desire

 

the members all of a euphonious choir

whose voices form a music most arcane

know with light heart it leads only to fire

 

and yet they hurry and seem not to tire

each signal rushing to the hungry brain

those who have chosen the course of desire

know with light heart it leads only to fire

almost witchcraft

the body is too solid and must fade

into vague emptiness and be forgot

this is the sum and substance of our trade

 

a fatal message is not long delayed

although each one must note the deadly blot

the body is too solid and must fade

 

before the trumpet calls to church parade

and listen to the padre's fading rot

this is the sum and substance of our trade

 

since in these shallow streams all folk can wade

crossing to stranger pastures at a trot

the body is too solid and must fade

 

though no wise man from his set course was swayed

we know that something was bound in the knot

this is the sum and substance of our trade

 

to come too late after the last night raid

misunderstanding signals from a sot

the body is too solid and must fade

this is the sum and substance of our trade

compass uncertain

there on the edge no more than one slight twist

before the risk of falling proves that when

we speak of uncertainty the last amen

comes at a point when all that must exist

in proper order that is not dismissed

is held in silence or kept in the pen

we turn and see that all is wrong again

and then too late each of us shakes a fist

in all the silence in the heavy blue

of endless ocean where there is no map

to guide us safely back unto the known

you did not want to share a thing you knew

so that we could escape from the sharp trap

yet now there's nothing left we could bemoan

at a red sunset

excitement ends and the red sun sets

on a cold day so all is bathed in fire

clean before dark and though all choice is dire

and all our challenges will increase debts

there is still thought that what we see as threats

might in due time turn into something higher

a victory of what we most desire

no matter what there will be no regrets

all chances come to this a chilly plain

marked by detritus of the shattered yoke

so lately broken and the changing tide

has come to cleanse the last of that old stain

making all ready for the morning folk

so that our hope is worthy of their pride

We have a Dream

John Maxwell

Some of those waiting to take part in the inauguration of Barack Obama as President of the United States had been standing for hours, many with tears streaming down their cheeks. Some others had been standing for decades and others for centuries – King Affonso, the Mani Kongo, Crispus Attucks, the Barbadian, Bouckman, the Jamaican/Haitian, Henri Christophe, the Haitian and John Brown, and Sohourner Truth and Rosa Parkes and Fanny Lou Hamer, all American. Marcus Garvey no longer has to ask where are the black Presidents and men of great affairs, and Nkrumah and Lumumba, Fidel Castro, Sukarno, Ho Chi Minh and Nelson Mandela all know that the Long Walk to Freedom has really only just begun, and Mohandas Gandhi and Martin Luther King would know that the dream of freedom belongs to all of us and that we have the power to make that dream reality. Yes! We Can and We Have and We Will. According to the statisticians the inauguration of President Obama ignited 35,000 news stories round the world, more than 30 times the number published about the last such occasion. And I, as a Jamaican who has had so many quarrels with the United States, reflected on why the tears were streaming down my face as I watched the proceedings in Washington. I remembered being at a party in Jamaica in 1965 at the house of the American charge d'affaires in Stony Hill, when Martin Luther King, the guest of honour, said that he had felt in Jamaica, and for the first time in his life, that he was a full and complete human being. That was part of his dream, that people should be judged by their character rather than by the colour of their skins. We are not there yet. We are certainly not there yet in Jamaica and the election and inauguration of a black President in the United States is not much more than another signpost on the road we travel. But it is an important signpost.

extended view

so we remember moments of the scene

fragments of music carried through the air

the ups and downs of a remote affair

 

a world observed in shades of white and green

that has become far more than we could bear

so we remember moments on the scene

 

to bring to others parts of what they mean

in images of daring and of flair

as now at last we have become aware

so we remember moments of the scene

villanelle for a new beginning

if all is measured and comes up too short

at the beginning all was calm and clear

at least we know we sailed from the right port

 

so many words and so high their import

uttered with gravity and without fear

if all is measured and comes up too short

 

there is not one who would dare to distort

the grace and beauty that make this day fair

at least we know we sailed from the right port

 

cheered by an assemblage of every sort

of human being given to our care

if all is measured and comes up too short

 

there is no crime no sin of false report

to hide our faces but we have to care

at least we know we sailed from the right port

 

we ask no judgment since there is no court

above our heads in the still winter air

if all is measured and comes up too short

at least we know we sailed from the right port

a lesson learned

no mysteries are hidden on the slope

for us to find we have the truth outright

together with cold rain in the long night

and messages that indicate the scope

of all our troubles is within the grope

of each small hand although the chance is slight

that we will make the climb yet to requite

anger for wrong would be to deny hope

what we are given may not seem like much

but what we had before was set to fail

to make a mob out of a human crowd

destroy each thing that came under its touch

now we have ended that unhappy tale

and a fresh breeze is clearing the last cloud