Some day, you will meet your home–

There’s a sound I will always remember. The sound of a body bag and a mortuary crane.

Oh, how the yellow zips clipped and crackled my chest,

Closing off things i never thought were open–

Like the memories of you that I always cherish,

Like the sound of your voice when laughter bursts of your lips,

Oh how they were zipped–

The sound of the crane cracking the floor–

Oh how I wanted to curse the ground.

To insult it for forming you and then taking you–

That sound, the cracking sound,

Sounded like the piercing sound of your cry.

Oh, how it pained me when you wept:

I remember you,

I carry you,

In me and

In places I will continue to enter.

 

Sometimes I cry,

Sometimes I wonder,

Sometimes I cry in wonder.

Of memories we would have made

Of things I could have done for you

Of lessons on love

On love for family and for God

On love for home before self

Of unwavering hope

Oh, how that sound haunts

Sometimes in my dreams when I see you

Sometimes on doors I close

Reminding me of your voice

Oh! how I miss you

Oh! how home is no longer home

Oh! how I died when you died

Sometimes, I wish you were my here–

Perhaps, someday, I will meet my home–

For in you home is better hope

For home is you.

Published by

Belo M

Black & Conscious| Education Enthusiast|Feminist|Chimamanda's Day1 |Entertainer & Blogger |

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