Haiti Speaking

Please stop saying that I am ugly and without capacity

Stop pretending that poverty is my destiny.

No more 10-year strategies awaiting tragedies

You are blinded, I am sorry

You are blind and cannot see

In the ground I grow sustenance

In the mountains I find protection

In the rains I am drenched with blessings

In the coastline I reflect God’s beauty and mine

And the night sky, a mystical surround,

Rebirths anew every morning
The sun’s majestic mound.

So kindly stop the vain prattle

And hear instead this, my mettle

Tested, archaic, eternal,

My children in rounds of praise,
Working--

My offspring 
Bright, beautiful and strong:

Paradise itself will have been my song

Paradise itself, all along.