October 23, 2001
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I know of yesterday’s Montego Bay,
She’s been tucked away,
Behind and inbetween the tall constructs of a
young metropolis,
She sometimes whispers the scent of
yesteryear’s food on a slow breeze.
I know of yesterday’s Mo-bay,
Who rests now on small and forgotten roads,
That turn away from the metropolis’ heart,
She desperately clings to board houses and
breadfruit trees.
I know of yesterday’s Mo-bay,
She’s dying with the generations that loved
her,
She now gives shelter to meager mongrels and
her faithfully beloved,
Her yards have no lawn and kids pitch marbles
in bare soil on their knees.
Yannick Nesta Pessoa
Note: Copyright ©2001 Yannick Pessoa
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Poetry
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