Elijah Elvin
wood of gators,
herbed in ginger,
limestone peaks,
vetiver rain-kissed,
a mist’s
night in
pearled antilles
deepens your devotion,
keeps your heart open.
To the ocean
Boukman looks,
west the enslaved
strike to be unbroken.
Lespwa fe viv
Lespwa fe viv
The bell rings
at the sun’s
set, the Creole pig
ceases its motion;
Freedom is handwoven.
the goaded
cries of love
spill on the grass,
leak in the ocean,
keep your heart open.
To the emotion
of my dreams
I will write
of your implosion.
Lespwa fe viv
Lespwa fe viv
The Creole pig sees
it is too late
to stop
the explosion,
slit into erosion.
Lespwa fe viv
Lespwa fe viv
Lespwa fe viv
Lespwa fe viv
at the blood’s
splash, we ignite
the ocean;
Freedom is handwoven.
Elijah Elvin is in his junior year at Weinberg, with a Black Studies major and a Creative Writing minor in the Poetry Sequence. His poetry tell distinct stories that each reveal what it’s like to be Black, Caribbean and American all at once in the past, present, (and future) with influences stemming from the Bible, Black art, and being raised in New York City.
