Back to WhereThereBeDragons.com

Packing

I’m attempting to bottle up Senegal.
Squeeze it
Shove it into my suitcase
Slip it in
among t-shirts
or new taille basses
So
When I return home
I can lay it out
And say,
“This is it,
Here it is”,
Senegal.

I’ll spread it out
Show my family
Friends
Neighbors.
They’ll see it.
They’ll understand.
They’ll know.

Except,
How do you package
The
Inherent
Indescribable
Spiritual-ness
of a place
Like Dene or
Mbake Cajor?

How do you capture
the way
your chest felt
filled with
love
and
excitement
as you watched
your team score?

There’s nowhere
to stuff
moments of laughter
so hard
your ribs burn
and your heart
threatens
to spill over.

Where do you fit
times that you
felt like
screaming
at the top of your lungs
from rooftops
or mountaintops
“I’m here,
I did this”?

I’ll come home
with
scars
of blisters
long gone
and
new outfits
of
colorful wax
and
tell anyone who asks
“They’re from Senegal,”
but I can’t
make them
see
the miles
I walked
nor the
people
whose lives
I’ve
intertwined
wrapped
and
blended
with mine.