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My sister dropped her passport


My father left without saying goodbye,
Because I was late,
And CITIES will not wait, for
African Leaders to emerge,
Female or male,
From the UN or not,
And the son was not at home to say goodbye
-partying as usual-
And my sister lost her passport on the airport road, we
Had to go back and hunt for it,
Lions in a pack,
Sniffing the grass,
Finding freedom, or
Yellowed inoculation cards, or
Rare Visas,
And I rushed back,
I Did,
After the bar, where I was crying
For the father who’s glass ceiling meant that,
Africans cannot lead the world imagination, just
It’s institutions.
Anyway,
We said goodbye happily.
*Photos* – personal
-short evocative poetry-

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Posted by on August 3, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

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