If a home is a giant mother’s womb
I’d scream for days to be re-born
To cling within and never without
Till grey my hair
And wrinkle my skin
For never have I known a place
So divine where
Warmth is gold, preciously rare
Like a thick duvet for
Harmattan mornings.
If a home is a giant mother’s womb
I’d scream for days to be re-born
To drink her old nostalgic wine
Of golden memories that overflow.
I’d shout for days to be re-born
To chew her tasty, savory meal
From thick red cord that binds me in.
On days my stomach mumbles aloud
I’d scream for days to be re-born
To kick and call for old folktales
And listen to her heart thump loudly down
Making my cheek a rosy pink
Her womb, I know; is my haven
Read – Yearning – A Poem by Aubrey Odirile, Botswana
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