I Remember

I REMEMBER
C. Barrett-Bryan

I remember palm trees, swaying in the warm Caribbean breeze
I remember girls and boys playing and singing in the land
I remember me, carefree and happy on my island, yeah Irie man
Walking along white sandy beaches, which stretched on and on and on…

I remember swimming in clear blue waters
With other native sons and daughters
I remember climbing mango, tamarind and coconut trees
I remember how it felt to be wild, to be free
To just look out on the ocean as far as the eye could see

I remember my first plane ride
I wanted so much to reach out and touch the sky

I remember, everyone saying how lucky I was
To be going to the land of milk and honey
And as I left friends and family behind
Promising to return someday
Bringing prosperity along the way
Alas, now in my middle age, still struggling to succeed
I feel I have betrayed them all indeed 

I remember at the age of twelve seeing snow for the first time
Didn’t like it one bit and even today, winter is still very cold

I remember when I arrived, I found out real fast
That being black wasn’t where it was at
Never before had someone questioned the color of my skin
All along I had thought, all men were kin

I remember when Dr. Martin Luther King was shot dead
The color of milk and honey had suddenly turned blood red

I remember the first girl, with whom I taught I was in love
When those dreaded words burned my ears
I love you, but just like a friend
Still, I went on to marry three wonderful times
Only to discover that when we say I do today
It doesn’t mean I do anymore
Now over the years, the only thing I know is that
Love is indeed very hard to find


I remember coming here full of hopes and dreams
In this new life I was determined to succeed

Off to college I was sent on a parents dream
For their oldest son as DOCTOR
But my heart cried out for the stage
A fool, a clown, singer, dancer, writer; ACTOR 
So we disagreed and the funds dried up
And I dropped out instead

An entrepreneur I became, starting one business after another
My Pops his disappointment so deep,
He couldn’t even help me get on my feet
And now, many tired years later,
After giving so freely of my talents
Facing failure after failure, each time I’d dust myself off

I remember starting over again
Full of resolve, tinged with regret and pain
Accompanied by too many memories that daily make me cry
Hell, it’s not that I haven’t tried but you see
To make it in America, the real you must die.