With Love, From Dakar

A million and one questions circle through my head,

As I sweat amidst the humid heat, lying on my stiff bed.

With every answer and solution that is found,

One more question or doubt is mindbound.

How can I be so lost when I’m so sure I’ve found the right path?

How can I be emotionally stable when my feelings can never last?

Why must I question every decision that I make?

Why are there so many questions that I can’t seem to shake?

I feel eternal and I feel happy and I smile and I laugh and I dance.

And yet most days, I become less happy with each glance

Of possibilities that the future does hold.

Of the endless struggles and pain that will inevitably unfold.

Of each burning memory that makes me so cold,

Of the irrational fear of being senile and old.

Is it wrong to smile when beneath you want to cry?

Please tell me, don’t you consider that a lie?

As the call to prayer echoes off these muddy Senegalese walls,

All I can think about is who will be there to catch me when I fall?

While drops of water drip off of the men and women prepared to pray,

Why is it that all I seem to think about is how I will spend my future days?

As the clay pots boil fresh fish and rice above a fire created from sticks and stones,

Am I that foolish and spoiled to be dreaming of the comforts of my own home?

Why can’t I just BE and not always have to do?

Why do I have so much on my mind when there is so little for me to do?

Why have I been built to analyze and work rather than to live and just be?

Isn’t it sad to think that these problems aren’t just with me?

I take a deep breath.

I feel my heart in my chest.

As I begin to unwind,

An idea floats into my mind.

Wait a minute…

As my friends in the US study for an upcoming quiz and write long essays and feel the weight of it all,

I’m listening to the rain pour, with a smile on my face, writing this post, in Dakar, Senegal.