Afrosays to me

…random excerpts from my communions with the AfroMuse

Night, Day August 7, 2012

Filed under: Abstract,Laconic — afrosays @ 5:13 pm
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@readjerome shares a laconic piece with us today. Share warmth.

 


Twin fruits of the clime, both to savour. But I suffer one.

 


NIGHT, DAY

 

…night is my comforter…

 

Night is my comforter, boy. For I have lost my eyesight, and it pleases me more than a little to know that it would’ve served me no purpose when the Sun goes home, and the shadows stop following man’s step. When light is but a small fire, an occasional firefly or glowworm to tease the darkness, of what use are your eyes than to frustrate you? To tickle your desire to see and mock your inability. My old ears and nose can fare me better through the night than your eyes, boy. Night is the leveler.

 

But Day son, the day, I cannot stand. I hear your voice, the voice of a man, yet I vision the face of a boy. I hold unto your thick arms and think how muscular they must be, but all I remember is the look of your tiny hands clasped in mine. I smell the perfume of your wife; I hear the jingle of her anklets and the songs she sings for fallen warriors, and yet all I recall is the tiny girl I brought home after her father was slain in battle. It is then I need my eyes, son. To visit your mother’s grave, to pull out the weeds with my hands, and replace the flowers. The Day is the torturer.

 

 
 

 
 

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Caution June 13, 2012

Filed under: Laconic — afrosays @ 10:42 pm
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Be wary of Monty.
 
If trees could not carry flowers and birds could not sing, Monty would do both on their behalf for she wants to help everyone. We do not all want her assistance. When the river grew tired of running, Monty asked to run in her place. Now even though the river is rested, Monty wouldn’t let the river run again.
 
Monty has no place in this world.
 
Monty has no place but to take the place of others.

 

 
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