Belinda Zhawi: SXSE – Home Is, 2019
Home is of my mother’s village,
after the divorce - my village
- of red dust hot days,
of rattlesnakes, of small huts,
of wild fruit, swollen wells
& mountains, of empty wells,
of maize - fields,
porridge, pudding and harvests,
Of storms, rainbows, of locusts,
of herding goats, digging for water,
of naked swims, of streams, pools
and homesickness.
Of one letter from mother,
of small birds, of catapults,
forest shits and ghosts, of stars,
moons ago, since i last saw my mother
Of church, proverbs, and tales
Of lies, spirits, and ancestors
Of love, romance, and incestors,
of grass traps, bracelets, and hats,
of dry grass roof thatch, of
stars, moons ago, since i last saw my mother
in all this thickness i almost forgot
my mother's name
said it like my mouth was a calabash
full of turned milk
Mother who left for a country that met
her like a wet slap
to the face. When i see her again,her face
is a stranger to me
and her hands are still hot and cold
Home is a cocoon
of warm water
that we left for ice and worn feet. x2
After a full frozen decade,
I’m surprised I still remember how it feels
to float in a cocoon of warm water
Home is the skin I’m in
A flower bloomed out
of my biro; spread itself into a corner
of a page - jagged pretty & ghetto
like the skin I’m in; like the skin I live in
Home is the skin I’m in