I travel home to remember the sound of morning I choose the evening to pray I remember this as it is For when the city returns When the sound of the green-line trolley cars and skyscrapers Surround my senses diminishing this version of my imagination
I will remember this The silence and the night time I will remember red sand on bare feet My skin sticky glistening in the sun My hair like untamed wool I will remember the air thick of Africa
I will remember my mother in the night And the children she cares for I will see them once more as they play Peeking at me from the crack in the doorway
I will remember my aunti-- her famous Jeloff rice Asking me in flawless Ishan native tongue "Ofure...Onegbe?"...How is everything...you're too skinny" And I, struggling to keep up, clumsily responding "Butayay aunti?" That means, I don't know what you just said
I will remember the market place The women selling smoked corn and plantain The taste of moy-moy and egusi The sound of Doris pounding yam Fresh oranges from the Arrimogiga farm
When Boston city lights mask the majesty of my favorite constellations I will remember the moon... Pregnant and smiling Because I am a poet As if she knows that I am
Invested enough to write about it Perhaps because I am a poet I will remember the unseen
The homeless and the beggars, the roadside wanderers, People just trying to survive Children roadside selling cell phones and unwanted trinkets I will remember the local roads Beaten and eroded by rain and time Huts built beside a 15 story hotel skyrise So many having so much Neighbors with others living with nothing But the hand-me-downs on their backs And the realities of poverty crushing their Promises of tomorrow
I leave behind my rose colored glasses In my grandfather's village Because when my plane finally lands back in Boston I want to believe that Nigeria changes me every time These moments teach me how to recognize what we take for granted Constant electricity and clean water Hospitals on every corner The opportunity to rise beyond our native borders These are the details that risk a fate of becoming lost or forgotten Like sounds of the morning For when the city returns When the sound of the green-line trolley cars and skyscrapers Surrounds my senses diminishing this version of my imagination I will remember this I need to remember thisTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
