“No More, We Prisoners, Of Our Past”
Shout Black graffitis, from, White-washed walls
Should a race, remain, downcast, outcast
When, with panache, redemption calls!

‘A Black Head, For, Black Barbadian State!’
Yet, fifty five years, of dilemma!
Was White fear, of a, Black confederate
Genesis, of this, ethnic enigma!

Did, ‘Windrush Shame, ‘Black Lives Matter’ …
Invoke, the ethos, of Black pride
Five centuries, of, deep, dark stupor
Was the mother, of, White apartheid!

The one, who reigned, with an, iron fist
Now, lingers behind, piety’s smokescreen
Whose glory, lost to, time’s heist
Who Needs, The Fossil, Of That Queen !!!

© 2020 Vikas Chandra