Home

it’s a long way home

Long waits and long flights

14 hrs to be precise.

there are millions of stars circling my crown

choosing to navigate me closer with each passing breath,

and a Moon that hypnotises me with her pull

Migrating me past borders

my wanderlusting has lead me to familiar grounds,

grounds i’ve scrupled over for years

procrastinating on the day I will part my lips and utter

words so liberating, my veins pop and ache;

“It’s me, I’m home now”.

The Move

I’ve moved too many times than I would care to. Just so I could have a roof over my head. Leaving everything I’ve grown attached to. Forgetting my side of the bed, where to turn on the light and having my routines scattered like dust in the wind. Permanent goodbyes to a place of solitude, knowing I will never go back and if I did, it would never be that place, my place anymore.

Would you even want to go back? I’ve asked myself. It’s hard to pack your stuffs into heavy bin bags up and down staircases till your feet are sore, but it’s even harder to turn back.

How faintly the memories of my first move surface. Ripples of excitement and nervousness coarsed through me. It was my first time in Hungary, far from home which meant I was grown—-or so I thought. How I look back at those years of brooding naivety. The era before my innocence cherry popped. I got older, moved on to…whatever older people do.

Today as I pack yet another bin bag, off yet another light and return yet another key to a place I called home for months. I’m reminded that home is not a place, and to turn back would mean embracing a myth of ritual, ignoring the lighthouse that beckons me to sail onward to wherever home may be.

Children of Light

Side by side, stand firm with me

children of light, come together as one.

Though the storms blows recklessly

children of light grow steadily

Black and Queer, Caucasian and Muslim

Children of light are not one of customs

like watered roses they wachs and bloom

for the riches of eternity is their heirloom

City Lights

The soles of my feet were tethered to the floor as chills creeped up my limbs and invaded my spine. Meticulously. I gulped hard, hoping for relief as hot saliva tickled the back of my throat. Surprisingly it works— for a split second. My hand managed to form a fist and knocked on the door.

The door is opened by a tall elderly welcoming face in white. He urges me to seat, then adds. “the senior drs will be joining us”. “Yippie, I thought, more fun”.

When everyone was seated, he began, ” this is an evaluation of your performance since you joined our team”. I swallowed hard. “You’re always there, polite. do what you’re asked but…

But?!

But you’re reserved. TOO reserved!. Lets hear what the others have to say

Senior Dr #1 In the beginning, you were great, curious. Active, then along the line you stopped engaging.

Senior Dr #2 Ditto.

Gulp. Gulp. Swallow. Swallow

senior Dr #3 This is a difficult department to work in and you’re adapting the best you can

The Bossman turned back to me, a little more pitiful than before, “Do you have something to say?”

In a bare whisper I started, ” I didn’t realise my personality was in question. No offence but you bunch are kinda intimidating with your loads of experience to my Intern status.”

I may have said more, may have stammered, may even have blacked out a bit.

I knew there was trouble on the other side of this door, but this went left, fast.

“This is not a criticism on you”, the Bossman interrupted my thoughts. “And I would gladly write up a recommendation for you”.

Write a recommendation? nice way to rip out my heart, cook it in cauldron and serve it back to me with wine and silverware.

I left feeling broken, but there’s no hurt that Yoga and the Bible cannot sooth. I have to say goodbye to this city’s bright lights I love but every now and again, bright lights dim and the time arrives to move somewhere sunnier.

Her Lost World

Innocence strahls in with the sun

to whence a golden girl rests her temple

fog has been erased from her mind

darkness plays hide and seek with light

Silence feeds into her thoughts

cleanses her memories of impure specks

Seeping joy from an unconscious plane

From plexus to plexus, excitation overload

Irregardless if it is real or not

She shifts her weight between toe and heel

waiting at a shore’s harbour

For courage to be delivered to her sandy feet

She could be anyone she wished

she could have anything she craved

so why did she always turn back

to revisit the flames torching down her lost world.

You are not okay

Alone, is what humans can’t comprehend. The first man couldn’t stand to be by himself, so he begged God to fill the empty void with a befitting silhouette. His sons mated with their sisters, what now is a horrifying taboo was then perfectly in order because man mustn’t be alone. The greeks held such frivolous parties where they inebriated on laudanum and made philanderous attempts at maidens.

Long before telegrams, people made tedious journeys on foot, or with an animal for several hours, just to connect with someone for a couple of hours, and be able to tell other about it.

Social media arrived, and it’d be false to believe it was still about the personal interactions, like Lilian in the neighbourhood, or bob at work, because the whole world is watching, at least the network of Intelligence the government uses to monitor digital blueprints is .

It’s no more about you and I.

We are part of a network that ensures that we will never be left alone. Isn’t that great?, isn’t that what we want?

No?

Then there’s something wrong with you, perhaps you’re the type who relinquishes on casual encounters with strangers, who’ll end up chopped up inside your refrigerator. Or even a stalker, whatever, I am afraid you’re not right you see. You don’t call your parents or talk with your bestie for lengths at a time.

You are not okay.

The rest of us are so perfectly well-adjusted. We crave meeting people we’ve lost contact with and catching up, especially so we can tell our normal friends and anybody with ears about it. We love to go to work and smile with our bosses and colleagues even though we’ve fantasied about slashing their throat severally. HAHA. But that’s normal you see, everybody does it but you.

As long as we don’t understand you, you are dangerous.

So here are some pills. Take them till your fingertips are numb, your pupils are dilated, and you laugh at the top of your lungs at every horrible joke. Take them until you feel liberated to talk about the colours pirouetting around your ego. Take them until you’re empathless.

And then you will be okay….like me.

F.E.A.R

With what my eyes have seen, the fields are lush. The streams are tiding from east to west. The moonlit sky migrating to a horizon. Buffalos hurdle to hide in caves. And sparrows high up the myrtle tree sings a song I fear.

A narrow window ajar, bright lights filtering through. I’ve come too far, not by my strength alone. One step heavier than the next, as though both feet were shackled to an anchor. Can’t see past my index finger. And I…

I should be very afraid.

The word FEAR keeps coming back around. Ironic how a simple four lettered word could cast so much shadow, it even holds power over identity, flashing a casted silhouette of doubt as an estranged former lover.

I am afraid

.

.

but what good would that do?

I can’t predict what’s engraved in the sands that fall through the Hourglass. I can’t speak incantations into the Wind and expect to extract a fortune. I can’t squeeze all that I am and serve to the universe on a platter. And I don’t.

I have a God that eradicates fear.