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 whose glass ceiling meant that,
Africans cannot lead the world imagination, just
It’s institutions.

Anyway,
We said goodbye happily.

God knows what’s in your heart, what’s in your mind is up to you.

*Photo* – personal

-short evocative poetry-

Published in: on August 3, 2017 at 21:05  Leave a Comment  
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