Birthday Toussaint Louverture May 20, 1743
Royalty is in the heart not in what you wear.
Like the son of All Saint’s Day to stare.
Of whom Napoleon Bonaparte could not tare.
From A Duty Bookman inspiration with a flair.
So let the Vodoun words come from the air.
St. Domingue is a thought to struggle for those who care.
In a Spanish rosary that is red, blue, and white without glare.
Freedom is a song by Santana from Hayti.
So let gens de couleur last a lifetime to bare.
Every Caribbean soul in a Catholic prayer.
With Jean-Jacques Dessalines stands to dare,
Georges Biassou with a revolt in memory that is fair.
Jean-Louis Villatte comes up high to forswear.
With Andre Rigaud as they overtake any French military pair.
There goes Étienne Lavaux as star shine above every hair.
Freedom is a song by Santana from Hayti.
Just like Leclerc’s campaign which is nowhere.
But at Cap-Francis with Christophe it was somewhere.
You will find Fore-Liberte still standing in hearts that have no ware.
Even if there are still plantations in Ennery to spare.
The month of May will bear witness to their destruction in a fisted blare.
After all Wodsworth would agree just the same in sonnets that repair
Hearts and memories full of Kreyol, Spanish, French Carnivals in midair.
Freedom is a song by Sanatana in Hayti.
From Port-au-Prince to Taino hearts rare.
Just like the son of Arrada that knew no corsair
But a ancestor of Benin to make all shout in joy aware
Brda is a muse that is not forsaken in history to pair
Into every corner of Hispaniola that has a rosewood chair.
Even with any hurricane that reminds us of Maxmilian Robespierre.
Even with every earthquake that shatters all glassware.
Napoleon at St. Helena could still not forget Toussaint which is rare.
Black Jacobins in a Paul Robeson inspired London to snare.
April 7 is when clouds bring rain for all to spare.
Onto grey dolphins that glide in waves amber blue compare
Freedom is a songby Santana in Hayti that is
Combattant de la liberté, artisan de l'abolition de l'esclavage, héros haïtien mort déporté au Fort-de-Joux en 1803.
Freedom is a song by Santana in Hayti
So let me go to Broadway in the month in time to spare
For Colored Girls Who've Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enuf honors the fighter from Hayti I swear
Don’t talk to me about zombies in a nightmare
Or blowfish poison that are meant to surely scare.
Or of other stereotypes that guide you and me in an age of thought that goes faster than the speed of light from Borgne, Cabaret, Bainet, Bahon, Dondon, Ferrier, Ganthier to Miami with software
Show me the one who was like Voltaire.
Because it’s his birthday so let me share.
1995 All Souls Rising past any hardware.
Past Chaine de la Selle éclair
Past Gros Morne on Toussaint’s holy mare.
Past Monre Blockauss pear
Nature’s testament to the land of mountains where
Camp Turel lives in fists with hearts to forbear.
La Tannerie bears his mark in bricked tiles to share
Onto Cordon de l’Quest in moments to shoot a flare.
Léger-Félicité Sonthonaxnever to becomeunfair.
Étienne Maynaud Bizefranc de Lavaux blare.
Like the red bat which flies the soul to dare.
To a heavenly way stair..
Let me remember Kreyole names here and there
Of the one we remember this Monday without despair.
So today I listen to you Santana in my lair.
Of the father in Saint Dominique in this life’s affair.
Freedom must be a song in Hayti so let me prepare.
"In overthrowing me you have cut down in Saint Domingue only the trunk of the tree of liberty; it will spring up again from the roots, for they are many and they are deep."
