Ndota Yangu

My heaven would have fields of coffee growing in coffee-colored soil. Avocados, citrus, mangoes, flowers, and green as far as the eye can see. Women hold on their heads bundles of bananas fanning outward like giant pinecones. Music that can lift you while the drums keep you steady. Perfect weather, ease with strangers... Tanzania.
Along the slow trails of the mountain of peoples' dreams, thousands of people sigh in disbelief. They stack rounded rocks on top of each other: towers of anonymous evidence. Circles on circles, the porters climb with stangers' bags on their heads like moving stone tower testaments. The line between life and rock blurs in the haze of the sun whom you climb to meet.
In the green valleys below, a different dream. It sings a song your body knows, that your memory had forgotten. Sound of music mountains make an arena of the Ngoro Ngoro crater. Elephants, gazelles, waterbuck, water baffalo, zebra, hyenas, lions, rhinos, hippos, babboons all dance among each other and a bird for every feeling you have yet to feel. The zebras pose modern art against a backdrop of water color impressionism. Taking it all in settles you. This prehistoric Eden recalls some biological memory of the real world before mechanical buzzing overpowered its song.
Turn up the hoofbeat, let the grasses aplaud, listen with awe as your bones sing along.