Beforeword: I was born on a Tuesday. 2026, this is the seventh time April 14 lands on a Tuesday since my birth. Seven—full, complete, alignment. The next alignment will be in 2037.

So, today, I return to the beginning—the history that led to my existence through the voice of my mom, through her memory of that day. A day shaped by my birth, as well as the weight of what was happening in the world beyond her. Though we are on opposite sides of the globe today—at 7:38 AM EST on the day of my birth, we met each other for the very first time—me and my mom! This poem draws us back into that moment.

Dawn Rising: A Birth in the Beat of Change [my mom’s poem]

It’s the early dawn on a Tuesday, the 14th day of April
I check into the maternity ward of the country’s teaching hospital
The pain still mild, the morning humid
The nurse at my side doesn’t just comfort—
She prays over me, over you,
because the world you were entering needed warriors wrapped in prayer

Before you took your first breath outside the cocoon of my womb
You were covered in a shield of faith—
Because in these times, prayer wasn’t a ritual,
It was survival, it was prophecy

Around us, Jamaica’s streets rumbled with unrest
Voices rose demanding land, work, dignity
The poor cried out for a share of the promise of independence—
Government struggled to calm the storm
While reggae’s heartbeat began its rise
Giving rhythm to resistance
Giving melody to the march for equal rights

I fought my own war through contractions crashing like waves.
Gripping the bed rails with a mother’s resolve—
Knowing that you, my child, were coming into a world
Aching for justice
Hungry for change

The doctor’s hands caught you at 7:38, as dawn broke the horizon
And it was as if Heaven whispered:
Dawn is here
You cried, fierce and new
Your voice piercing the stillness with the song of beginnings

And so you entered this world poised and prayed up
To be MAD—to:
Make
A
Difference!

Born in times that shaped you to be
A crusader for justice
A champion of equal rights
For reggae itself was rising as the sound of the people
Beating in time with your tiny heart
Promising you’d never forget where you came from:

A dawn of hope
A dawn of change
A dawn of possibility

Happy Birthday to me!

2026 All Rights Reserved

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In creative solidarity, Dee