Missing home...

I miss Home
The smell of Palm Trees
The sun rays that steals 
Through my window sill 

On Sunday mornings 
In Victor’s rocky banana boat
we cruise the rhythmic face-beat in the ocean 
While surfing the Atlantic 

And now I begin to see the little things
I never really did see
The cracks in the wall
That old rust on the gate
The quiet solitude of my living room
The smiles from strangers
Even the security guard at the office
“Pretty Purity! You’re very beautiful today!”
He’d say... even when I looked hangover

The old telephone ring and my cracked voicemail 
The happiness of sweating at the office gym 
The vibrant night life of Lagos 
And just everything that would require ten thousand more pages to drench this thirst of home. 
And now, it’s taught me what home feels like

As I make a new home
I’m reminded to see the little things 
And share my heart with everything
Until another home comes
So that home is shared with everyone, everywhere ❤️

as she breathes...

The Stars gathered

To craft a portrait 

Of the African Child's Nose

Her Nose, smells trouble up North

And vacuums the fires that be in the South

Her Nose, speaks a smile at sunset in the East

And bows to no souls in the West

Two rivers, one beside the other

bordered by a talking drum

Sharp as a giraffe's gaze

as sons "dobale” in obeisance

Oh Woman, thou African Child

Thy Nose spews pleasant aroma

stealing souls of passers by

Like a hurricane

Thy Nose, majestic as the ocean

An oracle without sound;

borne in deep truths of our ancestral strength

Against the foes of nature.

But God! Doesn't she wear the World well!