Dear 1768; I Cry (For Shelley and for Montserrat)

Dear 1768,

I cry.

My pain today bleeds into your memory. 

Today, I understand why. 
I look on ashamed, and I cry.

Can your betrayal yet be so bold today,
As it was so many years ago on that faithless day?

Your Spirit floats restless within this land of hypocrisy.
250 years later, and behold the same treachery.

I cry. 

Do not spare a single soul your wrath in this modern tale.
The Historian pens daily, but does he see your shame unveiled?

I cry.

Draw your sword, gather your whip, and wield without mercy.
The Blood that stains your betrayal does not trust their comradery.

I cry.

1768, I apologise for what today we have done to your memory;
Generational disharmony with excuses hiding the disgrace of disloyalty.

Maybe that is why Shelley wants to bring back in Massa to come and discipline we.
 
1768,
I cry.


Note: This poem as published is the intellectual property of MNI Media / MNI Alive Media, and the author Jeevan A. Robinson, as published. Reproduction or other use by permission only.