Ndako Na Ngai, or My Home
Sometimes, a piece of home lands on the tip of your tongue
as it dissolves into smaller pieces of digestible joy –
Savory pronounced as pundu or chikwanga.
Other times, home is a language that your heart yearns for
but never learns how to speak,
Entangled in the mystery of Bolingo.
In some occasions, home is held close and firm
in the form of an auntie’s liputa
Before you could ever grow into the shape to wear one around your waist.
There are moments where home appears in the gaze of others,
Often so clear in vision,
You could grab it with your own hands and embrace it with your lips.
Its walls were made of Nzambe
‘Fore it was erased by all traces on earth.
źródło: Read A Little Poetry
10.09.2026