A Walk Through Poem by Antonia Anthony

Under the Western Sun
Africa and Caribbean come together in a riot
The Talking Drum calls to each of us
Boom! Ba da ba Boom! Ba da ba Boom!
It is the rhythm of my soul
The dance of our Ancestors
Under the Western Sun
The Wind of Old blows into our mists
Calling upon us to remember the forgotten time of the Elders
The days before the tribeless ones
The days of the deep green forest
When its song possessed us always
When the rhythm of the long river possessed us
The days we were enchanted by the stare of the silver moon
Those Years of freedom
The months of Harmony
The Weeks of Grace
The Days of Peace
That Hour of Change
Now under the Western Sun
For the minute we are granted
We walk in our former selves
Take on our former shadows
Exchange our former favours
But just for the minute
Under…The Western Sun.