The Chronicle Gambia

A Stillness, In The Flurry Of My Departure

The singer said, in a pitiful attempt at art,
“My girl, you’re looking like a billion dollars.”

I chuckled
and returned my eyes to the page before me. They fell upon the line, “…your reality is only a metaphor in the corner of My being…”

If the singer had said
you are like the sun, caught in the flurry of departure;

like the waves of the oceans, who dance ceaselessly with the black rocks of the shore;

like the moon, full, half, crescent or on its way, holding the stars agog;

Like the sands, beyond measure, the wisest of all, the ever-present, the most certain of earthly certainties;

I would have let his eyes meet mine and sighed;
and to the singer, I would have given a grain of my sands, a ray of my luminescence, a dance, and a moment – a stillness in the flurry of my departure.

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