Home Is where Your Heart Is

I have seen the underbelly 

of life in the lands west of the Atlantic 

and it is a mirage

smokes and mirrors

of a sly storyteller

So, I stand here

in my sun-bleached Ankara

waiting to return to ancestral homelands

where the warmth of

kith and kin await

Perhaps to rekindle

the joys of living 

or singe my soul

in fiery cremation

Boarding pass and passport
in hand,

I take elated steps
into the great bird
to fly across oceans
and deserts
to the land of my ancestors
land of my mothers
and their mothers before
land where red soil
grows precious stones
the wealth of a people

whose minds are entangled
in a confusing history

But where is home?

years of life in strange lands

assimilating cultures once strange

 but now seep out of my pores 

and my taste buds hanker

for foods once alien

No land is strange

If the heart is at peace

and full

Home is where the heart is

Ngozichi, Maracas Bay lookout, Trinidad, 2002