The Spirits of Trinidad The shadows creep under the moon in the stillness of the night Living and dead both meet With whispers deep as the spirits walk the land The fright of the unseen, not quite alive nor quite dead By the lake of pitch darkness, where the night soaks de sky, The Soucouyant flies high with mesmerizing fire in her eyes, The unnatural shedding of her human skin, an evil but necessary pain for the emerging flame, which consumes and burns away those who dare to call her name Mama Dlo awaits, her glassy eyes reflecting the depth of the seas, Her seductive movements and swishing of her tail the perfect lure to captivate and conjure Where the tall grass bends and sways over yonder hill and vale A laughter like no other that never ends No faces to see, running, playing, wild and free As cheekily and hauntingly as douens should be Once upon a good Carnival time, eyes of burning fire Echo a wild desire in the streets Where the spirit of chaos comes to the rhythmic beats of the Jab Molassie drum With a brokenness of heart and a soul leeching of dark pain 9 | T h e I s l a n d R e m e m b e r s The La Diablesse roams, her hoof and hat Too late it entraps and haunts with carnal finality men who are driven insane by her seductive scents and charms For in this country, Trinidad, our land of paradise and not as you hear only of demise The spirts dance and laugh, a joyous celebration of legacy Heritage gold with a space and place for the soul to unfold The supernatural on the other side of the veil of past and present You just have to listen and be still to unearth the stories of the living and dead