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By Mary Oluwakemi Shorun


Sunday, February 6, 2011.



Both hands clasped together, that time of ties

strong outlook into the universe, clinging like a second skin


mind the lips, its moving up and down

only utterances coated in piety


suffer not to sacrifice - as heartfelt as it is

twenty young ones, twenty years: impossible


there will come a time, sometime

the cherished endings, omo 'ya


remember to keep them, in poignancy and gaiety

never let those slip away, O those family ties.



Going Home
When we bubbled through

aves - man made - atop

and smaller ones beneath, unseen

the clouds stood still and white

the ground, a labyrinthine mess

yam tubers and groundnuts

winds blowing from across

south of the Sahara

Of Africa and its west

of harmattan and rich brown filth

in the riches of the Savannah

random earth openings

cracking up in thirst

miniature "earthquakes" here and there

citizens happy and content

despite poignant moments!

Finally, shrill wails of doorbells

lightings on and off

known sounds of brown bats -

and also - black winged warm-blooded chirping

sucking plantain dripping liquids dry

bodies enshrouded in warm hugs

of long lost craving ones: the roots
it is good to be home.



Mary Oluwakemi Shorun was born and grew up in Kwara state, Nigeria. Her short fiction and poems have been published in Sentinel Nigeria and TIG Panorama Zine. She lives and studies in Texas, USA.

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