Our Own World Poem by Leonard Dabydeen

Our own world

was rich in silver and gold

or so the story was told

when the morning light

filtered through our hopes

and dreams from yesterday

and Time did not wilt away

our echoing hearts

as we buttressed our minds

like steel welded on steel

and when the cold wind and snow

made mockery

of our tropical attachment

we smirked in exiled derision

holstered in a Brampton basement

many of us looking for a night cap

uncertain or unwavering

like roses and thorns

not knowing how to differentiate

night from day

and candle light vigil

and cream-colored walls

shadowed our existence

spanning cities

from Toronto to Ottawa

a Canadian out-cry

and a brother's strength

molding us with rock-like firmness

in our own world.

(for Cyril, Sept.2/84)