NaPoWriMo Day 27: Nomad

Still searching for home
In a place that is no longer familiar
I thought I knew myself well enough
To find me in the midst of the broken glass
But I am struggling to identify my own face
And with each day that passes
My reflection fades
The cracks become deeper
And I sink further
Losing a piece of myself each time
And I am afraid that I’ll keep falling
Until I no longer recognise myself
And my own body becomes alien to me
An imposter in something that I was meant to feel at home in
The irony
Of how home doesn’t feel like home
So we become a nomad
Until I find safe ground to set my feet upon.

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NaPoWriMo Day 26: Again

All is right in the world again
I found comfort in the arms of another again
Still scared to fall and not be caught again
But we’re stepping out in faith again
In the knowledge that one can only win
By trying again.

NaPoWriMo Day 23: Blossom

My eyes have seen
Nature in all its beauty
The nature that reminds you
of all your senses
That reminds you that love is meant
To be felt, to be smelt, to be seen, to be tasted and to be heard.
I saw beauty
Despite feeling broken inside
The cherry blossom tree
Spoke words of encouragement to me
Words I needed to hear
Though it made no sound
So I’ll take shelter in your blossoms
For as long as you shine for me
For you taught me how to see the beauty in my own

 

NaPoWriMo Day 22: The W(hole) (in) Me

I am an in-betweener
Never fully accepted here because my skin doesn’t match the skin they equate to the British flag
Never fully accepted there
Because it is simply my vacation spot
And I am too ‘butter’ to be home in my parents land.
My mother’s tongue doesn’t flow effortlessly off of my own
So I play tug of war with my identity
Wondering which pit I’ll fall into
Sink into
Enough to feel at home within
And be welcomed with open arms.
Being welcomed
Accepted
Claimed
Both here
And there
Is a reality that not all of us are privileged to experience.
So I’ll place my identity in both
Half and half
In the hope that it’ll make my identity whole
Some things aren’t so clear-cut
So we cut our cloth the best we can according to our size.
According to our circumstance
After all, my name was birthed from the soil in West Africa
The land they now call Nigeria
So no matter what
My dust returns there.