Two Burnings

Walcott watched the Ramayana
Transform children into warriors, princes, and gods
Actors crossed through their mirrors
Stepping into an alternate reality
A moment where past and present shared a bed
To birth the beautiful union of their drama
And a God-like umbilical cord was ignited.

Walcott was witness to this ritual burning
The metaphorical igniting of a God
On the edge of a sugar field
A vibrant flash of light
Descending on the horizon like a sunset.
The ashes used to paint memories
Onto the Caribbean landscape.

Fire inhaling and exhaling
Breathing life into ashes
Red lips
Orange anxiety
Blue night sky.

Burn has another name in Queimada
A fictional island set on the outskirts
Of a colonial empire
Where waves of truth and fantasy
Wash up on the ivory beaches

Slaves mirror the pallid shores
And the masters
Mimicking their wickedness
In dance and song riding
Tides of vibrant colors
Carrying a human hand that
Waves goodbye to flesh

Profits ignite a fuse
In pale isolation
Inhaling green
Fumes from a poisoned sky
Exhaling dark ashes to cover the shame
Walker serenades memories to sleep
Singing “One builds to make money,
And to go on making it,
To make more,
Sometimes it’s necessary to destroy.”