On the Sabbath, the Lord took rest
but not the day before that, not
on the day of the Baron, no sir.
No rest for the wicked and none
for those who make them – no sleep,
no death is still enough, nor long
enough, not with all these souls to
carry across day after day and night
after night after night. The Baron
keeps busy, runs hisself ragged, but not
too busy for the likes of you. Never
say no to your rum and baccy, poor fodder
but that’s all you’ve got and that’s all
the Baron ever asks in return for what
all he’ll do for you if you ask him
nicely. It’s the small things, a bite,
a cigar, some coffee – he’s not so far from
the man you need help with, who hasn’t
turned to rot in the grave, the man who
isn’t a man anymore but comes walking
in your nightmares. No sir, the Baron’s
got empathy. Got a heart or used to,
just kidding, big difference, no voodoo
strong as the Baron when he works. Work
hisself to the bone, so many crossroads
to walk between the living and the dead,
but don’t you worry, he’s never missed
a meeting, not even with those forgotten
by the Good Lord, no sir. The Baron’s
the one you want when it’s getting cold,
when your body’s too full of the poison
of living, when all you need’s a little
rest in the soft dark earth, so that
when you wake, every day’s a Saturday.

baron samedi (wandering-earthchild)

Note: Baron Samedi (Baron Saturday) is a high-ranking Caribbean-origin loa (spirit/supernatural go-between) whose dominion includes, but is not limited to,
the dead, dying, cursed, and reanimated.