2020

Paris,
Sisters and brothers. I had missed the
Explosion of tastes that comes with a cere, and
The comfort of food eaten around the same bowl.

I rushed to printers and full metros between Porte Brancion and Concorde,
Feeling the weight of my black hijab flowing on my young shoulders
And the pressure of my blackness in the white crowds.
As never before.

Saint Paul.
A life of adventures in higher academia.
Movie nights with salty abundant popcorn followed
Study days roaring with nervousness in complex papers and numbers.
The freedom to stretch my feet on the granite grows smaller
Each day that goes by. Masks on. More indoor nights and introspections.

Bergen.

I can still hear the laughter of the reunions
Smell the perfume of our friendly hugs
Taste the smooth melody of warm meals we
Shared on a rainy day in January 2020.

Vines,
I recall the hikes between the dense green Norwegian
trees , the salty sweat lingering on my
Smiling face, stunned before the birds spreading its
Wings over the soothing Fjord.

Flekke
Friends. Chiquitas, we called each other.
Dancing in the kitchen while cooking jollof rice,
Taking pictures in our clothes smelling like a mix of garlic and pepper,
Our faces, breathing sisterhood.

A year passed, but still one more had to come.
Studying together from the early afternoon till
the cooling Fjord mirrored the moon
We cheered each other up, when grades made our moods dull.

Little did we know that the final year would be cut short.
What about the dresses we needed to try before graduation day?
What about jumping in the fjord after writing the last exam?
What about the last dinner in the Flekke bubble?

We rushed to pack, muttered sobbing goodbyes, unexpected
In one last breathtaking effort, we smiled at the
diplomas , and watched each other fly for what
Could be the last time.

The freedom to stretch my feet on the granite grows smaller
Each day that goes by. Masks on. More indoor nights and introspections.

By Anna D Sene