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An Ode to Baja Mar
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Poetry of My Bahamian Origin The Lucayans walked these edges
When the world was soft and young.
Their hymns rose where the dawn first touched
And trembled on the tongue.
Five centuries passed before the flags
On foreign masts were raised.
They left a quiet tenderness
The islands still have praised.
In 1492, time shifted
The fragile glass was split.
Columbus stepped on Salvador
With conquest in his grit.
A cradle of unbroken tides
Was shattered where they cried.
As ancient voices drifted off,
Lost to the turning tide.
The tides will turn, the winds will blow,
Through blood and salt and sand.
The secrets only waters know
Still cradle this dear land.
O shallow sea, O turquoise light,
Where history leans ashore.
From stolen days to freedom’s height,
One people evermore.
By 1648, the English wood
Rose gently in the breeze.
Above the coral resting place
Where older worlds found ease.
Then black‑flagged wanderers swept in
Across the open sea.
And infamy found refuge where
The hidden harbors be.
Through storms of empire’s shadowed years
And long, unsteady night,
The Commonwealth stood rooted firm
Awaiting morning light.
In ’73, the colors rose
To greet a dawn held dear.
A sovereign heart awakening
Beneath a sun so clear.
The tides will turn, the winds will blow,
Through blood and salt and sand.
The secrets only waters know
Still shape this living land.
O shallow sea, O turquoise light,
Where history meets the shore.
From pirate gold to freedom’s height,
One people evermore.
