A poet of the waste land

None felt it, though it within,None, none raised the statue,Sculpted the bust and the torso of yours.An unknown citizen, without the bust and the torso,Thought I of commemoratingThe services rendered by you selflessly,The goodness you had in you,The genius, the streak of itWhich but lay it unadmired and unassessedAnd this much gives me solidarity to…

A red rose?Just like you have I seen you somewhere,Just like a rose,A red-red red-rose.

In the Gandhi museumOr the Gandhi library of Gandhi StudiesOr to lodge their protestAgainst his unwanted presenceIn the campus?

If you have to say,Say youShowing groundsOf your study.But say you notHe was anti-African,Anti-Dalit.I accept it Gandhi was bad,But say,Say you,Are you good?

Sons and daughters,Everybody elseIn A Chant Against DeathSo beautifullyIn a simple languageThe poem,A VoyageAbout a mariner,A seaman,A shipmanDaring and fraught withRisks of life.A Professor Emeritus,A cultural icon,A literary giant,A Jamaican,A West IndianMervyn MorrisThe Caribbean writer,Thank you, Sir,My introduction is complete.

Humanistic and loving.