Constant Springs
you'll just have to imagine the jamaican accent. the weird thing
is that although i did witness this random violence with my mom (when i
was 14 years old) we never really talked about it on a meaningful
level. i don't know, i guess she was trying to protect me and
my sister. anyway recently we spent a lot of time talking about
surviving traumatic experiences. i think it helped me process this.
Aftah school at Constant Springs
Tasty pattie treats
Sweaty skin sticks to seats
Still hot air, ants crawl
in rings
Around our car
A low wall,
A yellow box, red light
The hot sun blazes
A ball of blinding white
Shaded eyes and blank faces
Two men walking
Talking
“yuh brave”
“yuh crazy”
Arms wave
“yuh lazy”
“bastard”
“Chuh Man"
Talk to the hand
Take a stand
Back turned
Someone spurned
Black gun pointing
Finger death anointing
A shot, a crack, a pop
The red light stop
Silence buzzing in my ears
Face wet with tears
Arching, crumpling, buckling
at the knees
Dry mouth, heart beating
“no please”
Hand reaching
Scattered colours spread
A pool of red
On the madras shirt
Lying in the dirt
Silence retreats
Sweaty skin sticks to seats
Roaring, pounding
Screams are sounding
Run away
Doan’ stay
People flock
Aghast with shock
Innocence turns
To ask: Why? What?
The sun it burns
The brutal attack
Him
In the back
Shot
In the front weeping
My mother keeping
watch