Some Answers

Oh my…

Why do I spread the longing so thin?

Why do I have to keep anticipating so?

Why would the words cease when they need be spoken?

When is it right; is it even wrong now?

Why do the doubts hover as air
molecules above me?

Where would I be; where would we be in a little while?

What would you say when I reiterate the angels’ proclamation?

When can I offer songs, as a sweet smelling incense, burning till the morrow?

Would dark colours unite and commune in thoughts as one?

How far would the road be; yet to be trodden?

Would I find that which I seek, or would despair be the soutane that I put on?

Would our fore-bears turn and look upon us with joy on their faces

Or would the griots from amongst them banish us from either world when a tale has touched their ears?

Would this darkness, familiar to those in Sheol, never set foot in my niche?

Would you think it as I do, or think it as you would?

Would the encrypted message lying beneath the thought be perceived?

Would I rid my mind of these questions?

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