Lindie Heeralall

The Queen has died
The nation cried
The son is made a King

Funerals cancelled
Food banks closed
Cyclists on roads
By authority, forbode

I cried for a woman I have never met
It was Dad for whom I truly wept
His passing quiet and small
Hers drenched in sovereign wealth
At the expense of the nation’s health

1953 a Queen was made she
While he sailed upon a ship
Oppressors stealing island brains
Opportunity for a bare-footed boy
Fettered in colonial chains

A life given to others
She served the country well
He left a Mother and four brothers
At Port Louis terminal

Seventy years of rule
A good immigrant plucked from school
The Queen has died
In state she lies
Beneath a crown of stolen jewels

While a doctor who saved lives
And brought babies to Mother’s eyes
Rests beneath a symbol not his own
In a place he did not choose

The end of an era
A generation dies
In the quiet there is sorrow
In the performance there are lies.