it rained on the eve of the day you were to be laid to rest in power. rain, as the maragoli say is a sign of blessing. but on the actual day of your burial, the sun came out as an invitation for people, who came out in droves, to celebrate your life. in my little corner of the world though, a cold wave was sweeping across europe leaving behind it an icy grey coldness that this black african body hadn't experienced before. but i couldn't even hate it because it mirrored my mood.
the title of this post is from the song graceless by the national.
