Half of An Avocado Seed
for Beryl [R.I.P.]
& A.D. Hanna & their family

a great lady died today
our Governor General’s other half

how like a corned beef can
how like a can of corned beef
we are opened and eventually consumed

she was formidable and she was smart
she was courageous and she had heart

what a giant Sir Etienne was
I remember them clashing
like waves and rocks

remember the sparks, the fire works
the water splashing, the salt sea spray

issue was apartheid,
racist policies in South Africa

with what Sir Etienne wrote, she disagreed
she picketed the Tribune

she with others, wore placards
she’d not give in, she’d not back down

English woman, woman of justice
for struggle, for the disenfranchised
the disadvantaged around the globe
in every corner of the world

stood by her husband
in family life, in public life
building family, building nation
from the blue print

stood by A.D. Hanna
like Lady Pindling stood
by Oscar Pindling

she expired today
death, its dinner done
wipes its mouth, its hands

upon the flag she saw raised
she saw go up

this flag will fly at half-mast
will wave and she will wave
and we will wave

there are those of us
who will wave farewell to her
with eyes full of tears

from some, tears will be streaming
down

a few will scream
last chance to reach out to her
reach out for her
across time and where no time is

ii.
Lord help me to look to thee
for what no one in this world
can withhold from me

what no one in this world can allow
or can give me

for what only you can give
like life you gave

which only you can give
only you can take away
or sustain

iii.
to hear pang-a-lang
they throw stones through glass

children in uniforms
passing from and to school

stones through glass
are like musical instruments

bows across stringed instruments
we break silence with

there are voices, sounds,
a pitch so high, able to shatter glass

houses abandoned, these pink twins
their wooden porch pillars
their wooden doors, dark-green

their front windows, shattered glass

up until not long ago
clothes on lines, on these two front porches
in the teeth of pins
the wind would dry

no longer are these two houses
sight for sore eyes

black eyes after battle
these two houses, opposite the church
perched upon a hill, in the bend in the road
dark inside

no one residing or can reside
within a building with windows
with shattered glass

children with stones,
out to make drama, to make mischief
out to make music
on their way home


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
Written between 12 noon
and 2:25 p.m. on Thursday,
November 5, 2009