...Without a Land

(Dedicated to every Haitian within and abroad)

Luders Allen

February 2010
© Copyright 2010



Trees of mine are cut, from me, away.
The rain scarcely falls to showing my
Yams, plantains, potatoes, rice-lily.
The beautiful birds that used to fly
Singing, me-yup, above the wide sky,

Me-yup, me-yup, me-yup, me-yup, yup.
Now, come no more to pause on top
Of my tree’s boughs to sing me, me-yup.
My fresh-salted fishes I ate up
With my yams, potatoes…and syrup

Tea corns are, now, nowhere to be found
Since the ocean is infirm. My old
Comrades whom I trust and so depend
On all aspects ‘ my Life, I declare/d
To represent me, so now turn and

Betray me. Thus make me one man-slaves.
My old comrades sell me and my lands
To strangers and leave me nothingness.
The rest, deep ‘ my land, they bury mines.
At any moment, if not ‘ cautious,

I might be gone, ‘ver, no trace of me.
I live without knowing my existence.
Sometimes, ‘ wonder, am I still alive…?
My land’s already an empty one
With no real name. So, am I, too, one!

Hurricanes passed by, ravaged and destroyed
The nothingness that I had. I cried,
But my crying was ignored. I screamed,
But the echo of my screams bounced
Back at me… I screamed out loud, out loud!!!

My screams condemned me. My land’s ‘ready
Empty as a desert. A whacky
Quake passed and buried my lovely
Comrades alive, leaving ‘hind: city
Of Utopian. I cried, but slimly

Tears run down… I screamed, but it seemed as
Bunch-Murmurs. I left my land ‘cause its
Emptiness and turmoil of all sorts.
Here I’m…in a land, not mine which is.
Tomorrow, if the landowner asks

Me to leave, What will I do? Will ‘ do
Since I have no land? Where will I go,
If the landowner asks me to go
Back home, to my land? What will I do?
What will I do? Where, where will I go…?