Seeking Solace

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If home is where the heart is, can one find solace by going home? Here’s a beautiful poem.

Take me home.

Take me home to the bird-sounds
coming from the huge neem tree
growing within my neighbour’s cluttered compound.
Clean chirpy sounds that woke me up for years.

Take me home.

Take me home to the sound
of my mother’s laughter.
A wonder-filled yet rare sound.
Parts of where I’m from
women are admonished
from laughing out too loud
We giggle and laugh mild,
hands over our mouths.



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