Is long time now
from before “whoppie kill fillup”
from before eye deh a knee
before the crofts of Carty and McCarty
left their tartans in the Minho's tributary.
What we call first-first time
when turtle deh a Crawle river and sea
before street light reach Kellits market, when women knew
how melastomes and ferns and sedges grew
and took straw baskets to
pick sundew, bloodworts, orchids
mountain guavas, wild strawberries
purple coco plums plucked under dark
branches, laden with stars—
Before we had our clay pots broken
we who carved homes in stones for our mothers
and their mothers, and set their jabas
to our feet
begun the whispering weep
Mean ar well, mean ar well
chameleonic song that cautioned sons
Mean ar well, mean ar well
mothers who felt the teeth of teething daughters
and could not hold their tongues.
Banana rose, blooming
she knew the stain of green fingers, and counted
Mean ar well, mean ar well
sung from hand to hand and loaded
on husband’s back and sold from this island.
Before they that come here come see we, and
hear the warm warning, should have been siren
song they ignored, and anchored ship to shore.
Mean ar well, mean ar well
Not all men are tyrants.
Not all are gentle, to
take the soft palm
of your schoolteacher hand, and whisper
worldly words, that flutter your tee-hees.
Not all men bring death and disease
to blight bark and wither coco plum leaves.
Is from them time there
that mother germed this seed
rooted it in the canal of our ear
Our heirloom spiritual
Mean ar well, mean ar well
note struck in the heel of our shoe
as we travel, the men hear
her woven faith that the right kind of man
with mind to mind you, listens and
figures himself the kind to lift
the jaba high, up on his shoulder
and answer
I mean her well
I mean her well
till time immemorial.