Where You Mind Go Just remember this my friend where your mind go your body will follow. A man can see before he must be. But friend what is your imagination? Do you see yourself as great or small? then surely you will fall for the lie that kills that allows the truth to be born still unless you use your will to meet The King and stand on that hill fully planted upon solid Rock.
Author: Simone
The Road of the Dread by Lorna Goodison, A Metaphor for Life
The Road of the Dread That dey road no pave like any other black-face road it no have no definite color and it fence two side with live barbwire. And no look fi no milepost fi measure yu walking and no tek no stone as dead or familiar for sometime you pass a ting you know as . . . call it stone again and is a snake ready fi squeeze yu kill yu or is a dead man tek him possessions tease yu. Then the place dem yu feel is resting place because time before that yu welcome like rain, go dey again? bad dawg, bad face tun fi drive yu underground wey yu no have no light fi walk and yu find sey that many yu meet who sey them understand is only from dem mout dem talk. One good ting though, that same treatment mek yu walk untold distance for to continue yu have fe walk far away from the wicked. Pan dis same road ya sista sometime yu drink yu salt sweat fi water for yu sure sey at least dat no pisen, and bread? yu picture it and chew it accordingly and some time yu surprise fi know how dat full man belly. Some day no have no definite color no beginning and no ending, it just name day or night as how yu feel fi call it. Den why I tread it brother? well mek I tell yu bout the day dem when the father send some little bird that swallow flute fi trill me and when him instruct the sun fi smile pan me first. And the sky calm like sea when it sleep and a breeze like a laugh follow mi. Or the man find a stream that pure like baby mind and the water ease down yu throat and quiet yu inside. And better still when yu meet another traveler who have flour and yu have water and man and man make bread together. And dem time dey the road run straight and sure like a young horse that cant tire and yu catch a glimpse of the end through the water in yu eye I wont tell yu what I spy but is fi dat alone I tread this road.
I love the above poem because of how astutely it portrays the realities of life today. This particular poem comes from the first collection by Lorna Goodison, Tamarind Season, published in 1980. The apt journey motif of the road reflects the kind of road many of us here in the Caribbean continue to traverse, despite the political promises over the years of prosperity. The type of prosperity we have had to deal with sees more violence being added to the pot, a loss of community spirit and a spirit of suspicion and “bad-mindedness” that continues to plague and torment individual and collective efforts at actual progress. I wonder at the “live barbwire” and how they have changed and evolved into real and present dangers, from all quarters, that seem to press into us more and more, occupying more of this non-descript road we must stay on, by force or fire, it seems.
However, the poem is not just about struggle and continued dexterity in the face of oppression and opposition but also about hope. I feel revived by the second half of the poem, after being beaten with the reality of life that shoves itself at one daily in the first half of the poem:
Den why I tread it brother? well mek I tell yu bout the day dem when the father send some little bird that swallow flute fi trill me and when him instruct the sun fi smile pan me first. And the sky calm like sea when it sleep and a breeze like a laugh follow mi. Or the man find a stream that pure like baby mind and the water ease down yu throat and quiet yu inside. And better still when yu meet another traveler who have flour and yu have water and man and man make bread together. And dem time dey the road run straight and sure like a young horse that cant tire and yu catch a glimpse of the end through the water in yu eye I wont tell yu what I spy but is fi dat alone I tread this road
Den why I trod this road? This rhetorical question signals a shift of focus for the speaker. Before this, she was focused on the many oppressive acts faced on this, “no face road”. She had faced hidden dangers, in people who were not genuine, who used their wealth and possessions to repress the poor and vulnerable. She had faced rejection, hunger and isolation on this road. But here too were balms that refreshed the soul. A little bird, sent by God to soothe a downtrodden spirit, the sun to bring back to life wilted dreams and the breeze to wipe away her troubles. All in All, there is also good here and not least of which is the communal gathering of a people who share, encourage and uplift each other “And better still when yu meet another traveler who have flour and yu have water and man and man make bread together“. This sense of community is what will help the speaker and by extension all of us in a world that seems filled with cold and calculating figures and entities. All compassion is not lost to the world. There are still good people around. We just have to recognise them when we see them. And sure enough, the Bible does say, by their fruits you shall know them. It is only when we find our community and our support system that we can thrive and not just survive on this road, “And dem time dey the road run straight and sure like a young horse that cant tire“. This segment on the road reminds me of my grandmother’s practice of always looking out for the stranger that may turn up, hungry, tired or just in need of a listening ear. This segment reminds me of all my neighbours when I was a little girl who was family, ready to pinch, discipline and soothe me. Here is an oasis from the desert filled with unforgiving selfishness that seemed to stretch on for miles. On this road of the dread, there is the threat of losing one’s humanity but also the promise that when you reach the edge you can find it in a friendly face.
There is no option but to travel this road. Maybe it was not constructed by us, but since we are on it, we need to find those small treasures that will help us to survive it. To survive not just physically, but also spiritually. So that when we reach the end of our journey, all that transpired on this road would have been worth it. For, by then we would have realised that we were not defeated but crafted, transformed into the person we were meant to be. We will come to realise that we really never needed a milepost because God had placed the right people along the way to ensure safe passage.
Wishy-Washy
Wishy-Washy You have been called. What will you do? Will you melt away like snow or dry up with the dew? See they are all just looking at you to make a move. No, standing still this will not do. Do you hear? You are being called tell me will you allow fear, a growing dread and dispair to paralyse you or worse, cause you to disappear on the ignoble frontier. Now you must decide: Will you fold ineffectually insipid, Or rise sure-footed and committed?
Spring of Living Water
Sping of Living Water The Spring of living water tramples the dust, makes it nothing. That which was a cloud of doom, doomed to be no more. Heal me with water that springs into a fountain and floods the wasteland. Shower me with the tears of the storm, that revive the sould and give life. When uncertainty rises over the horizon to exact its revenge then the water rushes through, sweeps it out of view. Spring forth, and make all things new.
Don’t Quit
Don't Quit Just because the sun did not shine on you today. Just becausethe rain came and washed away your way. Just because you feel the fear stealing over you. Just because your feet are worn walking in weary shoes. Don't quit don't give in to the voice that tries to imprison you from within.
Wealth
Wealth Look at your friends they are your treasure Assess your health Its goodness cannot be measured Look at your gifts they are yours to uplift Look at your life a richness you cannot compromise. These are yours these are sure These are wealth which much be kept on a most precious shelf.
Mighty One
Mighty One
For Karen Mighty-Byfield
Mighty one.
Powerful and strong.
To this land you belong
For in no one’s box do you stand.
So you must run
To find your wings
And fly to Destiny.
Beautiful one,
You were brave all along
And now you know
That fear taught you your song
No more can you be overrun
By regret so deep
And nightmarish sleep
That aimed at your dreams.
Because now you know
The secret of your hips
As they swish and dip
To your promised destination.
