He collected a bowl of dust,
and quickly hid it into a green bottle.
The bottle's weight didn't change much,
but his heart had changed a lot,
since his parent's relocation to the North-pole.
Everything around him felt frozen and remote;
sometimes he felt as though he was in a giant freezer,
preserving memories of his blissful life in Africa.
He remembered how he slid on mud during rainy seasons;
the dust that surrounded dancers during celebrations;
the earth that swallowed the breathless in funerals....
Dust, he felt, was a gateway to the realm of Mother Earth.
A bottle of dust was his only way of smelling, touching, and feeling
the land of his ancestors.....
Copyright © Teddy Kimathi | Year Posted 2017