by Shawnelle Martineaux
The sun shines boldly on the west today.
With its light,
a shadow is cast coldly
upon the faceless smirk of freedom’s might.
It barely hides the graves.
Half-men were scattered.
Before grief could countenance the scene,
ashes were thrown.
The slates of victors were wiped squeaky clean
The brown brows of “others” sorely battered.
His name is written on a stone.
It is planted
on the ground
in a park
by the swings.
They chant it to kill the voices of ghosts
screaming hymns of judgment from the shadows.
Freedom stings.
Her Caribbean Legal Musings 