In the streets of Kingston
there’s no fun,
While its fury burns hotter than the sun.
When you walk these streets
you have to be discreet
For if you’re too talkative
You’re bound to be obsolete.
The decorative patterns of the environ,
are not your usual decor
When on the streets at every corner
The light poles are draped with
black flags as a banner.
They are used by the mourners, a symbol of the loss of loved ones.
Even the whisperer’s whisper,
for they fail to understand,
The black cloth tied to one hand.
While the black flags sway,
there’s still so much to say,
For the truth of the message is yet to be conveyed.
~Xavier Frazer ©