Independence

I saw my dreams in the mortar pounded And swift dripping from the brow of time I saw me white like cassava flour Ready to become anything on a hot grid Neither bitter nor sweet This lost of identity This making me into mere bread as sublime. So much is uprooted now The fat root that sucked the life from stone The leaves green and bronze like an Arawak The child shivering in the dawn Frightened, orphaned, and alone.