Musings Of A Nomad

Ngozichi, Cabbage beach, Paradise Island, Bahamas, 2017

Time check 11.00 pm
An imaginary clock on my mantelpiece ticks
The sound intrudes,
trespasses my musings.

Otherwise,
everywhere is silent.
Tonight,

even the winds sleep.
There's no howling of winter

outside my window.
But inside,

my soul howls. 

The Nomad.
The wandering
From place to place.
It's a thrill,

but sometimes a shadow hovers
You miss familiarity.
Known faces.

Family. Friends.
People who know your name
And the way you like to be called
The ones attuned to your idiosyncrasies
your wishes.
Not strangers.

Who knows you not,
but strut around with,

a preconceived notion
Of who they think you are.
And do not know your name.

My name.
It is who I am.
I am my name.

My name came forth before me.

Even the sky is strange.
Dark hue blankets the night sky
And there are no diamonds in the sky

You miss the star-studded night sky
Of ancestral heavens
Where home calls.
And the stars know your name

The sound of rap music filters from the street below
Your howling soul smirks
Some young one travels past
You listen to the beats
The energy is what your soul feels
But tonight
You yearn for familiarity
In a strange land
Where no one knows your name.

The ticking clock stops.
No, it doesn't
It never stops.

Memories of time
In boarding school, flashes by
That's what the clock reminds you.
Time is of the essence
Time again.
It has become an addiction
The addiction to time
And being on time
Just like dad

But you are in a strange land
Where time takes its time
And no one knows your name.

You are a stranger in the land of Junkanoo