The Wind Knows
The Wind Knows
By Nelly Vee
Yuh hear me?
Nah man, really hear me—
I don’t whisper for pretty folk sittin’ in AC,
I howl for the ones who know
what it feel like when zinc roof fly
an’ granny seh, “Cover de mirror, child.”
I talk in broken shutters
and creaky back doors,
in patois prayers and
rum-soaked curses shouted
at da dark sky.
I seh,
"Move yuh backside!"
to da coconut tree too stubborn to bend,
and I hum lullabies
to da fisherman boat still tied tight,
waitin’ for a peace that never come.
I ain’t wicked.
I’m just the message.
Carried from island to island—
from Antigua to St. Croix,
Tortola to Grenada.
I bring word from da ancestors.
Warnin’s from da deep.
Yuh can cuss me,
but I never lie.
Storm come,
I tell yuh so.
