People are like ripples,
Running across the lake.
No matter how hard you try,
You can’t catch them,
And keep them in one place.
People are like ripples,
Drifting across the lake.
Despite all your efforts
You can’t hold them close
And keep them next you.
People are like ripples
Reaching across the lake,
They become distant memories
Echoing in my mind,
Creating a sweet, bitter taste.
Copyright © Kay Cary | Year Posted 2016
He danced on the decks of tossing ships, danced only for dimes
He danced to the lash and sound of whips, hip moving like dream
And when he reasoned, his words sublime brought heavenly climes
Dance from plantation to Greathouse, dancing in gully and stream
And if we dance again today, he choreographs nuance and fiber
Still; this talented son, this bright native of the Martha Brae River.
He is the twin soul of that Manley, our horizons in the sun
And when at Mona, he taught me how to run with my ton.
O farewell, brother of my brother, mentor that from your distance shape
Me into a patriotic landscape where my children may build, farewell
Sweet intellect; and O may they bring our Mframadan like cloth to drape
Your rest. All your public life was nobly spent, farewell, Rex, farewell!
Your footprints are bright, not castles in sand, from high hills shine
The glory of your days. O Griot, go the bidding now of the Divine
O Blow the abeng now, beat the kumina drum, O village peel
The bells of jubilee again. Aluta Continua, Rex, go take your seal!
Mi mumma band her belly and bawl long time, yai water like rain
Hot like Clarendon springs, and the world like blue mountain mist
So cold, O emptiness, emptiness is such a dread, O such a pain
What shall we do with out hollowness now, and how shall we resist
Again the shackles of injustice, O that there were Marley
To sing this icon into the icon of memory, for all our history
Is but words on a page until we can retrieve the past to right
Today and make tomorrow bright again. He was that light.
O Kilmanjaro weep! O Timbuctu weep! O Meroe and kujo's clan
Weep for the death of man, a sterling man, a grandiose design
That met its worth in gold in deeds of him. All our life is like sand
Worn from the rock of being by tides and seasons, and no sign
To tell where wind or water carry us, we are blown away
The shadow of the sand is gone, but never cannot decay
It is too immaterial, its presence is like his fragrance here
Bill still O Niger, and you great Nile, I borrow you for a tear.
Copyright © L'nass Shango | Year Posted 2010