Written piece
War Cry
Kiana Henry
St Lucia
About this piece
My poem "War Cry" confronts the paradox of progress, resilience, revelation and renewal. It is both lament and hope. It cries against deception yet envisions beauty rising from ash. Each line weaves unseen truths of island evolution into a spiritual quilt where vision endures.
Palaces are ruined,
While kings beg,
And beggars govern soul trades
For silver and gold to build their images.
In vanity, they forge their bondage.
The enemy uses it as their prison place.
They dance to a mirage,
While their souls dance in the dark,
Deep in the underground,
After losing their spark.
The dead make a mockery of life,
While life passes them by.
Lions roar as the serpent bites,
The scorpions sting,
And the children’s teeth are set on edge.
Deception masquerades as truth,
And truth is chased into a deep well.
Children are robbed of their youth,
While hidden kings are sold into hell.
All to find hidden treasures,
Buried before the formation of dust
Older than stars, older than us.
Who loses, who wins,
When a world is upside down
For the feel of a dollar and pound?
Rising as beauty from ash,
To bind tailors to their stash.
Some markets eventually crash,
So that kings may handle their staff.
Black will be seen as white,
And man will see with new eyes
Washed and cleansed with crimson bright,
A dream where the soul market eventually dies.
A deception so great as to make men
Believe in black and white,
To rob them whole,
While they dig pits for their own souls.
This is not a story about man.
This is war older than you and I.