NYU Black Renaissance Noire Fall 2015 Volume 15.2 - Page 75

57 I must not leave the coast. I was happy there, I shouldn’t have abandoned the fishermen. They once told me that the fishermen rescued my writings from the sand. With spades they dug big amounts at the beach and took them in carts to their boats and poured them. Then they searched it the way women expunged the rice, and thus they ordered the letters and read me. That’s how I knew I should have stayed. 59 Some things, fortunately, have not lost their just and true essence: The tiger continues to be the prey, my hope continues to dance under the rain. I’m in my room. I’ve walked centuries during these early hours. I’ve grown weary of time and space. I put my chin close to my chest, and I look at the well. I submerge in it. I open my mouth. Close my eyes. Silence. 73 BLACK RENAISSANCE NOIRE I believe it has stopped raining. Things start to grow. Like before.