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Poetry

At the Tomb of Ibrahima Fall

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At the tomb of Ibrahima Fall Touba - Skendong Poetry

Baye Fall

On a hot night in Banjul, he hears the zikr rise —
Often beneath stories hidden treasures lie,
The chant’s lurid tide, with talking sabar drum,
A summons streams through the hallowed dark.

This Jamaican paces the golden sands,
Past shrunken monkey heads & obscure claws,
Through market dust on revered paths,
Alongside Touba’s great, shimmering mosque.

Not yet Maghal, so the streets stand calm;
Men with matted locks in ragged colors toil;
Amulets clink, & the donkey cart ahead
Transports a dead body to sacred ground.

A silent prompting brings him to his knees,
Beside the mausoleum of Sheikh Ibrahima Fall,
& the huge pilgrim staff that never left your side —
(Xaritu Yàlla yi dañuy def lu baax) –
A fabulous tale the griots keep.

Another Poem by Skendong: Homecoming, Identity and Belonging When all Seems Lost

Read “At Melville’s Tomb” by Hart Crane

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