You

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A poem dedicated to a dear friend in a time when hope seemed dim. COVID required us to dig deep within ourselves for a selfless type of love to keep one another whole. To tell each other that our strength is in our femininity and not our ability to fit a mold.

I stand before you with great adoration for making it this far.

I know you think you have not made a drop in the ocean

but to the greater world you have

They are too upset to say it to you though

Because how can one gyal have so much power?

You see you are special.

You are touched with the landscape of Castries,

the prolific spirits of J King, Knock and Louisy.

The resilience of power of Basseterre exudes you.

Spence, Bradshaw and Douglas' souls hold your hands

as you walk through a space that is not your own.

You see you weren’t supposed to be this bush fire,

at most you should have been a coal pot fire,

efficient but contained.

Sufficient.

See, society is happy

that you weren’t impregnated by it

to come to motherhood too early in life.

But you fucked up and tipped the wind and started spreading.

Expanding your wings in every possible

directiontouchingeverythingandeveryoneoverwhelmingcontagiousintoxicating.

And they don’t like that.

But I like it because you are free,

and ultimately that’s all everyone wants to be.

But it has its cost and they don’t want to pay the price.

But you! You Goodie!

Have that big money, that soul exchange.

And you pay that cost.

And I know it’s not easy but it’s all you have.

And you are rich in it.