on a moonless night and spell-writing
a very very very short tale of Toubab Dialaw
i sat down on a low-rise wall made of stones the colour of rust and as i faced the infinite ocean/oshun before me, a spell landed inside me.
it was a moonless night when the three of us decided to leave the heat of our rooms to cool off the restlessness of our sleeping bodies.
getting some fresh air was our shared intention yet we all had secrets to burry that night.
Moussa fell under the spell of the sea and offered his locks to the salty water.
Sally, her bulbous eyes still sweetened by her dreams, fell back in the arms of Morpheus her head resting right next to the seashells i collected the previous afternoon.
and me, as i returned to the seated posture my body remembers best, perched on my stool of red stones, a set of words tumbled through my thumb aided by the silent voices of mer-muses.
inside the darkened night,
we all seeded our prayers hoping that by sunrise,
they would have become trees amongst the stars,
stellar trees,
agents of what we could have been