The Paradise Where One Dies Poem by Hebert Logerie

Haiti is the paradise
Where zillions die
Haiti is a cursed country
For the weeping mass
Facing daily miseries
Disappointments and suffering
Where streets and roads, in rhythm
Are embastillated with dust.

Haiti is the cemetery where
Live a lot of crazy people
There, citizens die in prison
Citizens and peasants die by treason
Dessalines The Great was murdered
After him, other heads of state
Were executed, poisoned
And killed like licentious lawyers.

Haiti, an innocent country is very often betrayed
By his own children for pennies
For sweets or donuts. Haiti, my dear country
Is where the investigations continue, and the crimes
Remain unpunished. It's as if human life
Is worthless. In my heart, the flag is at half mast
The poor people, who are starving, still dream
For better shelters, nicer meals, and better days.

Many of us do not like to hearthe truth
Many do not want to see the paths of freedom
The hypocrites, the thuriferous are everywhere in the streets
They metamorphose, in the evening, into never seen beasts
However, there remain burning and thorny questions
Who will help the people in these unhappy conditions?
Where are the skilled Haitians who worship poor Haiti?
Why are the people, our twins, are so poor and skinny?

Do Haitians really love this land made of blood and fire?
So many martyrs have lost their lives to provide a happy country
Like our neighbors and other lands that are well planned and organized
When will we sing: Long live Our Haiti, down with mediocrity
Long live the Haitian Union and down with malice and vanity?


Copyright © January 2018 Logerie Hébert, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.