Home, as little sister wrote in her journal last month,
Is a place where blessed souls find peace swimming
In pools of happiness.
A place where love birds find joy in releasing emotions
Under the moonlight,
Relishing dreams and memories.
Home is all you can ever dream of, hope laced with tranquility,
Home could never be forgotten.
Now, little sis writes with tears in her eyes.
Home, a place where wretched souls find solace in broken homes,
Where broken bodies swim in pools of betrayal and sadness.
Where burning houses replaced the sweet smell of flowers.
The letters spelt in a little girl’s cries when her body is being taken,
Forcefully by men like her dead father’s.
Home could be disguised as the agony a mother feels when her son is being
Dragged away, labelled as a creature meant for business purposes.
Today, home has been forgotten.
For home represents a broken piece wrapped in sheets of torment and pain,
Never to be fitted into the puzzle of life again.
Colours and chocolates
The man at the paint shop laughs again
as I stand up, repeating my request
Sir I need you-
To paint me
The colour of your skin
He may think I’m crazy
But I know I’m not
A number of bodies lay down on the ground like floor mats
Only this time I know them all
A sister, a friend, and the coffee lady’s daughter
All cause they decided they needed to be free to live.
Looks like the painter wants me dead too,
I guess this drug pills are the easy way to take.
Maybe in another life, I’d be free, free from being caged cause my body is the colour of their dark chocolates.
Mama scolded me for gazing at the stars last night
In this world of ours, dreams are things we are forbidden from, our only purpose perhaps
is to help others achieve theirs
Little Nene kept raising her hands up high,
Counting her prayers one after the other
One; for baba landlord to stop sleeping with mama as our house rent
When this happens, I think real Mama will come back
With her grace, pride
And immense love for the stars that glow the brightest
That way we’ll watch them together again
Two; for baba to safely return back home after being sold,
To people who dealt in gallant warriors and those who made them tender-
As softened cucumbers on a bent stalk
Three; for brother Ike to finally find a job after three years
For the fine sand to delete his footprints from memory
And the heat of the sun to come like the rest will, in some time
To book appointments to shine on my brother
Once in a fortnight would do
And four; for us to be free from slavery