The Ripple Effect

Like patterns in a Kente cloth
As unexpected as batik prints
As recurrent as bitter herbs grounded into traditional concoctions
Made for the sick to gobble
And to recover from a deadly disease
Like the continuous sunshine in the tropics
That is how you seem to take me back to my roots.

Why do you seem to blend into my AfricanNess?
I guess this is just how inherent you are in this place.
Had it not been for your continual appearances
I would never think that
Nothing;
Absolutely nothing could expunge my Africanness.

Sure, you come my way in diverse ways
Or diverge like ripples to me
Maybe the right word is - converge
For I can hear you like the waves on the sea shore
More like waves from the oceans surrounding me.

To my west, I see traces of you on the Atlantic.
To my east, I smell your aroma on the Pacific.
I wish I could find the right words to say
But I guess I will stand in the shoes of Marion Jones just for a millisecond
And use the simile - as hard as admitting a blatant lie

I do not even know why I am talking about you
Because I would rather talk to you
I would prefer to cease letting you dwell in the minds of those who have a reason to know you
Or those who have all the reasons not to.
Because I want to see the fading ends of these diverging
But converging ripples
And I do not mean the use of anesthesia when I talk of an end

I do want to see the real tail of this road
Yes, an end like the tranquility that rests at the base of the earth
After a rainy stormy day.


*Also visit Panorama-Blaze

~by Trudy-elsie A.
-12/10/09
10:02pm