No. Don’t! Please don’t!

My very soul cries out. From within

My womb I feel you shake, rumble

With deceit, hatred, treason.

No. Please don’t!

As the cry from inside the ghetto

Vibrates within my eardrums

The cry of a people rising in unison.

No. Please don’t!

As you climb winding paths,

Or trod along pot-holed lanes;

Crevices of my retarded development.

Please don’t! As the claws of poverty

Tighten around my frail body

Lying midst this Caribbean archipelago,

Submerged in the Sea of Underdevelopment.

No. Don’t! Please don’t! As the sound of the drum

Vibrates within the heart

Of a people living in faith of the distant past

Shaking in fear of the unknown future.

No! I scream.

In the dark forests of my imagination I cry out

As the misty hills tower over a new-born child in the cold,

An innocent lamb to the slaughter.

Let me live to hear the rhythm of the African drum

Once again, to quench my burning bosom.

Let me live to be green again

And to smell the fragrance of the balisier.

Let me live

To feel the rain showers coming down in torrents

As tributaries rush down the hills and through the valleys

Of Belles, Layou, Laudat and Gleau Gommier.

Don’t. No, don’t destroy me!

Allow me to become stronger.

Allow me to grow. Don’t neglect me.

In my fragility, hold back thy hand and believe.

Let me live to see the copper haze of the setting sun,

To hear the shrill notes of the Sifleur Montagne,

Let me live to hold you within the deep contours of my body

And to smile with hope. Let me live!