our remembrance
Art by Heather Doram, Antigua and Barbuda
The thorny tree.
Greediest for the light,
pushes the forest away,
to bask in its spoils.
Its glory.
Venerated only by the strangling vine,
the hungry beetle,
the man who seeks to furnish his home.
The fox.
Who steals into the fowl coop,
will meet his match,
when the flock turns,
to see his hands, wet and crimson.
The snake.
Who traps the rabbits in their den,
will gorge itself to sleep,
only to awake trapped by the roots,
they kept at bay.
Shall we weep for the tree? The fox? The snake?
The wolf.
Running from the old hunter,
kills the farmers son,
And howls after he has been shot.
Forgetting he now, is a hunter.
Shall we weep for him?
Will we stand before him,
with his crimson hands,
faded fangs in our thighs,
with echoes of howls pulsing in our cultural memory
Shall we say “Let him hunt another day”
While our cousins lay cradling their children
My people,
Tell me,
Is it not familiar?
What you see?