i'm

I'm the last night before the sailors leave

I’m the loud greetings after the silence of lonely nights 
I’m the sailor, the trader, the Sheikh, the slave and the sultan
I’m the generous bouengvillea spraying its delicate petals with every breeze
I’m the tears of mothers and wives waiting by the shores
I’m the legendary pain of slaves from jungles far away
I’m the sweat of skinny workers stranded in lush plantations
I’m the tweaked Arabic words dancing along the African tongues
I’m the kufia whose threads hid more stories than those told
I’m the ginger, cardamom and cinnamon that tickle your tongue on every bite
I’m the boy longing for his father sailing far away
I’m the bulbous domes and the tiny minarets of small crowded mosques
I’m the communal prayers chanted immediately after Maghreb
I’m the crabs running along the sands in balmy nights
I’m the sighs of lovers whispering to the arrogant moon
I’m the thick plastered walls faithfully keeping secrets of joy and sorrow
I’m the colorful silky sarry, the lavish cotton kanga and the thin striped sarong
I’m the old sail, stitched again and again
I’m a short moment of history when everything was almost fine along this coast