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Friday, September 20, 2019

Black Bird 4

I am legally American
Biologically Ugandan
And Culturally Nigerian
I fit no where and everywhere
Everywhere is diaspora
Yet everywhere is home
I miss home every second of everyday
Because home is multiple smiles
And hearts
And arms
And houses
And cities
And countries away
Separated by the ocean
So I’m never quite home
It’s incredibly sad
Yet titillating
Because I am constantly surrounded by my people
And home is now wherever I make of it
So
Here I am
An American Peace Corps Volunteer
In Morocco
I am home away from home
In every sense of the phrase
and it’s oddly comforting 

Tuesday, December 25, 2018

My life in the uncultured lane

I'm not one for small talk
And I'm usually well behaved
But I tend to prattle when I'm nervous
I talk about puppies and poetry...
People I know, and people I don't know
And how I wish I had longer hair
And how the color you get when you mix pink with purple should be called punk
And how pumpkin pie is better than pineapple upside down cake, but not by much
And how I generally love people, but I like some people the way I like my coffee... in small doses and far apart
And how I once grabbed a handful of what I thought was my ex's butt, but it was the butt of a priest
And how I was once chased out of church by a man with a stick
Because I wore shorts and he swore I was a sinner
And I am, but redeemed by grace
And while I'm not proud of most of my behavior
I promise I'm working on my poise
 

Thursday, November 22, 2018

Careless

My love is quiet
It will not grind on you in a dark club where the music is too loud and everyone is too touchy but will reach out for your hand at a poetry slam when it locks heart with a sonnet
My love will rarely drag you out of bed for company but kiss you on the shoulder at 6am then head to the living room to finish a book
My love hates small talk but wants to know your deepest thoughts
My love doesn't try to be the life of the party, it strives to be kind the loner sitting in a corner
My love is not loud
It used to try to be, because that's how the movies and music videos and mills and boon described it
But at the cusp of 32, my love has learnt to be itself
Quiet
Steady
Reassuring
My love is not loud
If loud is what you are looking for
It's okay to bang the door on your way out

Saturday, September 8, 2018

Prerogrative

Look at paintings and have too much time on your hands.
Sleep in.
Work long hours.
Or don’t.
Spend time with family and friends.
Pray.
Or don’t.
Love.
Say no.
Say yes...
give yourself permission to indulge in whatever feels like freedom.
Think.
Feel.
Or don’t.


View from Chupa Cabra during a race last night, it felt like freedom!



Thursday, August 30, 2018

Fluently Us!

Mom no longer asks what I’m up to
Not because she doesn’t care
More so because she can’t keep up, and she doesn’t approve of half of it anyway 
The fucking nose ring and other possible piercings she doesn’t want to know about
Sky diving, sailing, country hoping, moving all the damn time, not dating the senator’s son, not getting married, not giving her grandchildren, not calling her every day.

Mom no longer asks what I’m up to
Because she knows I manage to take care of myself 
Having control of my body, trying new things, exploring the world, not dating assholes, saying no to proposals that only fulfill social obligations, not having children for the hell of it, not calling her everyday. 



Mom no longer asks what I’m up to because she knows that through it all, I love her the most and always find my way back to her. That will never ever change and that’s all that matters, everyday.

Wednesday, August 1, 2018

Not Grieving

Maybe if you make yourself so busy that you literally don't have the time to process the death of your grandmother, you'll forget that your heart is breaking softer with every ignored message from family and friends. 

So, 
here you sit, 
not writing, 
not calling your mother, 
not crying your heart out.

Sunday, July 15, 2018

Black Bird 4

*needs work, a lot of work haha*

Sometimes, we mourn a love we never had
A love we could have had
But chose not to settle for
Yet, we mourn the loss of it
Because… hope!
Hope is such a dangerous thing
It leaves you wanting, needing
Reeking of something so strong they can smell it miles away
And who wants that?
Hope is such a fickle thing
It leaves you confused, deranged
Wondering why you have faith in something that proves over and over again it’s only here to hurt you
What is wrong with you?
Hope is such an inspiring thing
It makes you learn, invest
Growing into the kind of person you would be proud to be with
What’s wrong with that?
Hope is such a beautiful thing
It is curious, yet grounded
Knowing that contentment comes from self-love and companionship is just dessert, albeit delightful
There’s nothing wrong with that.