Skip to main content


Let me take your cold hands in mine
As we do our final waltz
Allow me to be reposed in your bosom
Kiss my eyelids with your pale, frigid lips
Let my sleep be like the falling of the autumn leaves
Oh Dance with me
Dance this last dance with me.....

Whisk me away while it is dusk
Let not the morning's sun rise upon me
Let me not be awakened by the chirping, and the humming, and the laughter of life
Oh, Dance with me
Dance this last dance with me....

Let us escape on the evening's light
Let the music of your breath take us beyond the here
Come, take me; let me hold your cold hands in mine
Let us dance on the air this time
Oh, Dance with me
Dance this last dance with me...


Popular posts from this blog


"They need to get their priority in order."

"They do not have money to send their children to school but they have time to put in hairstyle!"

"I am not sorry for them at all. They too wicked."

These are among the value statements we make against people living in economically depressed conditions. We speak with such contempt when it comes to the poor and how they "adjust their priorities." We, with our well-thinking selves, impose upon those we presume ourselves to know better than, a set of values and priorities we "know" to be good for them, so that they can get their lives in "order".

It was from this position of "awokeness" and perhaps being "well-intentioned", then President of the West Jamaica Conference of Seventh-day Adventists, Pastor Glen Samuels, spoke at the National Prayer Breakfast in 2016. He did so to great chorus, as his audience erupted in laughter and loud applause, approving what was a v…

The Wicked Woman We Love to Hate!

Choose a Caribbean island - any one. There's a mother who's just beat her child with the first thing that her hands fall on. The Caribbean is inundated with narratives of mothers who dare not spare the rod and spoil the child - mothers who dig up ants nest and put their child to kneel in it, on a grater with their hands tied behind their back; mothers who use a hot iron to burn the hand of their thieving child; mothers who go into schools to box up the disrespectful child for answering back teacher and bringing shame to her name.
These are the things that Caribbean mothers do. They do this, not necessarily because they are wicked, but in the name of discipline.

We are a people who have learned violence. It's become part of our social DNA. Our parents learned that violence was how transgressors are taught to do better and behave better. They learned such violence from their parents, and their parents from theirs and their parents from the plantation. The whip is what we le…


Social Media, and in particular twitter, has become a space for spewing caustic and vitriolic effluent at people with whom we disagree. I am sometimes amazed at how people feel so empowered and emboldened sitting behind a screen to descend into the bowels of utter nastiness to express dissent to something that someone else posted. It is worse now that we have 280 characters instead of 140. It means that the nastiness is times two. But social media can be and has been used as a source of good. I have been the beneficiary of deep friendships and formed a formidable network of people who have supported and pushed me along in my professional and personal life.Yet, we do not hear many stories about the power and reach of social media. In this post, I want to speak about a quiet Superhero that I encountered on social media.

I had been working in three vulnerable communities in the last couple of years on a urban disaster risk reduction project being implemented by Habitat for Humanity Jamai…