Musings · Poetry

Where Is Mine?

I am not a nomad That's too fancy a word to describe me It will be a dishonour to true nomads to call myself that But still, I drift, homeless with a roof over my head Questions of who I am and why I am pouring in at every waking moment From here to there… Continue reading Where Is Mine?

Musings · Poetry

Lazy Humans

I heard Bisola crying last week; I heard Uche suddenly bring up suicide. Hassana's shoulders drooped; her eyes looked weary. Tosan sighed incessantly and stared unseeingly. Ufedo wore long sleeves in the summer. Aisosa always sat alone. Always. I noticed all these and more; The soundless cries from drowning souls; Got no response from me.… Continue reading Lazy Humans