This Island man

With the caramel essence of the

Morning sun upon riverbanks

With eyes that are dancing with

Calypso beats and reggae rhythms,

That flow within the passage of time

Like cerulean springs of water.

 

This Island man

With the mahogany traits of the

Night sky upon nut beige sands,

Lighting up the silver rocks

With lips that sing songs

Of old thatched African villages,

Of a lineage of Kings and Queens.

 

This Island man

With the ebony locks of crinkly hair,

Thick as the verdant shrubs

Of the volcano-filled fertile lands.

With a touch of Haiti and a

Sprinkle of Santiago de Cuba

That flows in his veins.

 

This Island man

With a beauty described

In biblical terms by ancient prophets.

Born in the snowy realms of Canada,

Birthright among the hills of Montreal,

Of an ancestry that hailed from 

The burning coals of Africa

This Island man

Is my man.