Edward Kamau Brathwaite - Poemas A2c - Wings of a dove (from Rights Of Passage)

Edward Kamau Brathwaite (born 11 May 1930, Bridgetown, Barbados, died 4 February 2020, Barbados) was a Barbadian poet and academic, widely considered one of the major voices in the Caribbean literary canon. Formerly a professor of Comparative Literature at New York University, Brathwaite was the 2006 International Winner of the Griffin Poetry Prize. Read an obituary for Edward Kamau Brathwaite here: https://www.theguardian.com/books/202...


"Wings of a Dove"
1
Brother Man the Rasta
man, beard full of lichens
brain full of lice
watched the mice
come up through the floor-
boards of his down-
town, shanty-town kitchen,
and smiled. Blessed are the poor
in health, he mumbled,
that they should inherit this
wealth. Blessed are the meek
hearted, he grumbled,
for theirs is this stealth.
Brother Man the Rasta
man, hair full of lichens
head hot as ice
watched the mice
walk into his poor
hole, reached for his peace
and the pipe of his ganja
and smiled how the mice
eyes, hot pumice
pieces, glowed into his room
like ruby, like rhinestone
and suddenly startled like
diamond.
And I
Rastafar-I
in Babylon's boom
town, crazed by the moon
and the peace of this chalice, I
prophet and singer, scourge
of the gutter, guardian
Trench Town, the Dungle and Young's
Town, rise and walk through the now silent
streets of affliction, hawk's eyes
hard with fear, with
affection, and hear my people
cry, my people
shout:
Down down
white
man, con
man, brown
man, down
down full
man, frown-
ing fat
man, that
white black
man that
lives in
the town.
Rise rise
locks-
man, Solo-
man wise
man, rise
rise rise
leh we
laugh
dem, mock
dem, stop
dem, kill
dem an' go
back back
to the black
man lan'
back back
to Af-
rica.

2
Them doan mean it, yuh know,
them cahn help it
but them clean-face browns in
Babylon town is who I most fear
an' who fears most I.
Watch de vulture dem a-fly-
in', hear de crow a-dem crow
see what them money a-buy?
Caw caw caw caw.
Ol'crow, ol' crow, cruel ol'
ol' crow, that's all them got
to show.
Crow fly flip flop
hip hop
pun de ground; na
feet feel firm
pun de firm stones; na
good pickney born
from de flesh
o' dem bones;
naw naw naw naw.

3
So beat dem drums
dem, spread
dem wings dem,
watch dem fly
dem, soar dem
high dem,
clear in the glory of the Lord.
Watch dem ship dem
come to town dem
full o' silk dem
full o' food dem
an' dem 'plane dem
come to groun' dem
full o' flash dem
full o' cash dem
silk dem food dem
shoe dem wine dem
that dem drink dem
an' consume dem
praisin' the glory of the Lord.
So beat dem burn
dem, learn
dem that dem
got dem nothin'
but dem
bright bright baubles
that will burst dem
when the flame dem
from on high dem
raze an' roar dem
an' de poor dem
rise an' rage dem
in de glory of the Lord.