Aren't the holidays lovely? All this time to post. Enjoy it while it lasts!
I took some time today to go to the public library down the street, not intending to leave with anything since my bookbag was already full of Harold Bloom; of course I still walked out with two books: Poems from Black Africa and Under African Skies. The latter I have yet to read, but the poems, I've been submerged in for what seems to be the entirety of this evening.
Poetry that speaks to your soul as it longs to be is gold in paper coffers. Tonight as I read The Meaning of Africa by Abioseh Nicol, my treasury of experience was deepened.
"I know now that is what you are, Africa:
Happiness, contentment, and fulfillment,
And a small bird singing in a mango tree."
-Nicol, "The Meaning of Africa"
I long for home.