I poured myself a cup of tea and sat by the large wooden window, the morning wind rippling through the long yellow curtains so that, for a split second, they looked like a maiden’s gown, or perhaps a melhfa? Or even an iro1. Basking in the morning sunlight I sat, the smell of salt in the air—in my lungs, the songs of a barn swallow perched on the tree mixed with the soft sounds of gentle waves. The only reminder I’m not in heaven is the burning warmth of the cup in my hand.
Through the window spreads the deep blue of the Mediterranean Sea, stretching as far as the eye can see. The sea, a blue vastness of an unspoken poem. An inviting sight, a coolness to the eyes of the beholder. Yet to think that somewhere off the shore of this same blue sea, an erasure of a people takes place. A people farthest from me in blood yet closest to my heart. I wonder, do they look to this vast blue greatness as a source of comfort amidst the relentless destruction?
The thoughts of their suffering sours my mood, and I turn my focus to the bright side of my heart.
How easily my default thought is of you. I find comfort in the thought of you. yet I fear such longings do me harm, rendering me aching for a distant future that is uncertain.
I know you would love such a view,
I know the sea is dear to you
I know you would love such a view,
where the sky meets the sea
at the distant horizon.
I know you cannot go a year without beholding the sea,
it’s sight bringing you comfort and ease.
Would it not be a delight to have a house in the motherland, off the coast of the vast Atlantic, in Dakar maybe? Or perhaps in Lagos, where I grew up?
Oh how I’ve dreamed, Oh how I’ve dreamed..
I shook my head with a smile on my face. Even when reality is far from such dreams, I choose to dream, for if I don’t get to experience such dreams, at least I’ve lived them over and over in my mind.
Then I took a sip of the tea and found that it had run cold, a sign that I spent the entire morning in my head. I shook my head again with a smile on my face and said to myself, “what a morning well spent”.
A traditional Yoruba wrapper worn in Nigeria as part of a complete outfit (Iro ati Buba).
What a morning well spent, indeed!🥹
so beautiful oh my goodness!! MashaAllah!!!