Rocky Roads: For Jamaica

They tied up wailing goats and severed each head

For dinner, the goats were cleanly eviscerated.

I ate all that was placed in front of me.

The cows which hid in bushes and sticks were saved

For last. After all, we needed milk each morning.

I hardly take time to recount the steps I’ve taken:

I remember those chipped red steps I trotted,

My face had fell upon them times too many;

Yet still, I hopped on each step, every day and night.

The steps led to broken and uneven roads

But still, we walked with bare and uncovered feet.

As children, we knew and thought of nothing—

We cantered down rocky roads and lived

in Jamaica’s rural streets.