on haiti

By the poet Kalamu ya Salaam

Iron Flowers

sluggish, semi-stagnant
the water in Haitian gutters,
small gullets, trickles green sewerage green,
here even the dirt is poor
and there is cloying dullness camouflaging even strongly persistent colors  
in squared, white-walled cemeteries
funeral flowers are made of painted iron
i see no roses rising through this Port
Au Prince poverty  
i hesitate to take pictures
it is like thievry
almost like i am stealing precious light that
these, my brothers and sisters, need to live

*   *   *   *   *

Tomorrows' Toussaints           

this is Haiti, a state           
slaves snatched from surprised masters,           
its high lands, home of this           

world's sole successful           
slave revolt, Haiti, where          

freedom has flowered and flown           
fascinating like long necked           
flamingoes gracefully feeding           
on snails in small pinkish           
sunset colored sequestered ponds despite the meanness           
and meagerness of life           
eked out of eroding soil           
and from exploited urban toil, there           
is still so much beauty here in this           
land where the sea sings roaring a shore           
and fecund fertile hills lull and roll           
quasi human in form            
there is beauty here           
in the unyielding way           
our people,           
colored charcoal, and           
banana beige, and           
shifting subtle shades           
of ripe mango, or strongly           
brown-black, sweet           
as the suck from           
sun scorched staffs           
of sugar cane,           
have decided           
we shall survive           
we will live on            
a peasant pauses           
clear black eyes           
searching far out over the horizon           
the hoe motionless, suspended           
in the midst           
of all this shit and suffering           

forced to bend low           
still we stop and stand           
and dream and believe            
we shall be released           
we shall be released           
for what slaves           
have done           
slaves can do            
and that begets           
the beauty            
slaves can do