Photo Source: Unsplash Captive of Ayangalu I writhe in my seat, Obeying the insistent beat; Of Ayangalu, Patron of drummers, I can’t sit still. They say the mighty spirits Of West African Yoruba Babalú-Ayé, Changó, Ogún, Can seize you, inhabit you, Obatalá, Yemayá, Ochún, On this magic isle of Cuba. Blur of purples and yellows Of buildings formed of stucco Streaks Past open taxi windows. Humid air caresses my face, As we careen through narrow Streets where balconies project From tall...