poetry:// a marron's child...

belonging...
do I belong to the sun?
or am I the son of the moon?
feeling shipwrecked on an island after a monsoon
my mother... was gone too soon
missing stamped over my head
like a lost child posted on a milk carton... marooned.
my father is the lost one he missed my childhood
never seen me as a man...
am I even a man or am I still dust... abandoned.
belonging... where do I belong? I belong to the west indies' lost tribe...
I want my birthplace to be real... not just the breath of memories long...
gone like air. I want to see the colors with my own eyes
the colors... reds and indigoes not just black and white.
I want to feel Haitian sand between my toes.
I want my face close to the soil... close enough to the earth
to smell the dust and watch the small red ants carry stuff.
like rows of early morning shoeless women
with large baskets of burden carried on their heads.
No, I want my birth back... I want to hug my mother's womb.
I desire a one candled birthday
a new start a rewind to find the exact moment I lost myself
it was so long ago... now a fugitive black slave.
marron's child... marron's child... marron's lost child.
do I belong to the sun?
or am I the son of the moon?
a marron's child... yes a marron's child.