To whom we say:
We must forget, we must move forward.
You must forget?
Is forgetting the keyword to face the Unreal, the Ugly…
A Pain alive in our collective brain… collective cells?
Is forgetting sufficient for the bloody reality of the color of my skin?
Is forgetting will forget the Un-Real, the Sur-Real of our Bloody wounds…

Alive in the Atlantic Ocean
Millions of voices
Millions of Tears
My tears, your tears, our tears
Millions of Ivory bones…

In the womb of Maman Dlo
The Story of my ancestry continues to haunt my memories
Memories of twelve million
Memories of voices
A legacy of resistance
A legacy called “Marronage.”

Endlessly we must Not submit
Endlessly we must stand
Endlessly we must heal
Endlessly we must tell
Endlessly we must act
We must say
We must put words on the words
We must put words on the wounds
Loudly, fiercely like the sound of the waves running aground on the shore
We must Be!
We must sing eternal freedom, eternal victory!

To whom we say:
We must forget
Is revealing the ugly a devil sin for you?
Is revealing La Grande Histoire the phantom of your glorious existence?
Is the devil of your glorious legacy the repentance of your sins?
Is the devil haunting your universal voice?
Is the devil revealing the ugly of your humanity?
Is the devil uncovering your religious protection?
Is the devil the truth of your sins?
Sins? We were!
Devils? We were!
Ugly? We were!
A devil illusion of a racial masquerade!
A devil illusion of an egotistical position!
For light always uncovering the unseen
For light enlightening the truth of my dark skin!
For light uplifting the supreme of my humanity!

Then God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light.”
Enlightening dignity
Enlightening memory
Enlightening my invaluable humanity
Restoring my unspeakable dignity
Reviving the unthinkable truth of my beauty!
Reviving the glory of my dark skin
In the foolishness of your illusion
In the cultural bias of your dominion.

To whom I say:
Freedom is my truth
My brown skin is my light
Creole is my strength
The Ocean my guide
My land, my roots

To whom I say:
Descent of voices
Descent of Stories
Descent of Memories
Descent of duties
Descent of resistance
Descent of transcendence

To whom I say:
Emancipation for us!
A call from the blood!
A call from revival!
A call from Nature
A call of Power!
A call of culture
A call of the tongue

Universalism is not my name
Universalism was a number, bleeding beneath my name
Universalism is an iron bruise beneath my name
Universalism erases my name with his name
Universalism blemishes my name
Universalism forgets my name
Universalism is disgrace to my name

Once they said:
France is your name!
At the cost of our blood,
At the cost of the stench of our holds.
At the cost of our words,
At the cost of our tongues
At the cost of our silences
At the cost of our breath
At the cost of our skin
At the cost of our body
At the cost of our life
At the cost of twelve million

And now, I say:
Creole is my name!
Creole is our tongue!
The World is my tongue!
The World is our tongue!

In the womb of the Ocean
In the womb of the Sugar Cane
In the womb of the Sun!
In the womb of the Past
In the womb of the Present
In the womb of the Future!
The bruise of my wounds resonates in memory of my past, present, and future.

Lucy Jane. A
June 4th, 2019
Up in the Air, flying to Peru.