Home,

I will protect like a seatbelt,
The essence of my life
Like the police dogs in my yard,
The sulky creamy orange masters bed
I will protect with my mind’s eye,
The smoky black grey kitchen wall
I long to see,
To reminisce about the length of my life,
The essence of my existence
The violence in my dual identity
Biafra. Nigeria

Home.
The undulating terrain of ‘Omagba’
The wooden kiosks along gutters smelling of decaying fish and shit in ‘Amazoba‘
The face-me-I-face- yous just before ‘mkpologwu’
The tarpaulin sheds and their bowls of rotten beans, local rice and rat-infested garri
The eroded roads along ‘Udodi’
Signs of back room deals
Signs of corruption, ‘godfatherism’ and political ‘iberiberism’

Read more on:

https://www.thezenpens.com/2019/05/30/home/