We still talk sometimes
Drown ourselves in that perfumed sea of nostalgia
Gnawing at times that were
And those that are yet to be
Slithering calmly through these gardens of memory.
It’s different here, she interjects
The moon seems distant
The air feels tangy, and the food.
The food doesn’t taste like home.
It is not home.
We only left home, because
Home smothered us with gaunt obsession
Stifling us in a bottomless pit
Wanting but never giving
We only left home because home became unliveable
With us the anthem of greener days
Flew miles in tin birds to alien lands
Lived among alien people.
Sneered at, hated, unwelcome
Yet we stayed, hoping, believing
We only left home, because home chased us.
This poem was published in the 9th Issue of PoeticAfrica magazine.
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