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SCATTERED
SEEDS
i looked
everywhere for solid ground.
Then i met a woman, she said,
These days nothing tied down stays that way for long.
i asked, Please, where's my soul?
i couldn't find it on the river banks.
It lies not at the banks of the Potomac in Washington, the Seine in France,
nor at what's left of Africa.
i looked everywhere.
The woman i met, she said,
Your soul is in a place that doesn't exist geographically any more. These
days nothing tied down stays that way for long, don't you see? Nanm
ou lan Ginen - Your soul is in ancient Ginen, ancient, ancient Africa.
i asked, which, maybe never existed as i dream it to be?
She said "It's your milieu nonetheless", and left.
i can find my soul now, in scattered seeds.
Sometimes, when i don't even expect to,
i find it walking around in Harlem, Connecticut, Chicago, California,
Miami. In Haiti, in Paris, in Montreal, in Africa, in Asia. We've absolutely
no problems recognizing each other, my soul and i. Sometimes, we don't
need no skin to see either.
Eternal seeds know each other. We're first in time, out of time, any time.
And it's been that way for a long time. |
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