Sunset on A Jamaican Spring (Poem)

In the midst of the twilight

A cornucopia of colors shines its last shine before the dim of night

And as the sun sets it does not do so begrudgingly, cursing the moon for it’s inevitable return

But it does so in a way that reminds onlookers that we’ll see him again in the morn

As we’ve grown as people we feared nightfall and the unknown

We shutter behind our castle walls and close our doors

We fear what we cannot see

But then we brought forth our own lights to eclipse the moon and usher in a new day in the night

We hustle, bustle, shuck, jive, and live it up until the sun comes up like a diver for air

We managed to push back the darkness, shadows, and even our own fears

But is the night meant to be owned?

Or is there something to be said about toiling in the day so that the white mans skin bronzes in tone

We fear what we cannot see

But we push on and expand until even the vast expansive horizon is within reach

But through it all the only thing that I cannot see is me

Without a mirror I am blind to it all, so I pose the question;

If we fear the unknown, should we fear what we as people have the potential to be?