Homesick

Well, in the words of Aubrey Drake Graham, “…Homesick jus when I thought I was sick of home…”,

Lies the impetus for this particular poem.

I must admit that I frankly did not expect to miss my country,what with all its problems,

But being deprived of the people who made all the evil seem feeble sinks me into a state so solemn,

And I wade in the murky waters of missment, each homebound thought feeling like the ultimate torment,

The sweetest 7-second-prize, yet in my eyes, the most vituperative taunt!

The great Marshall Mathers III once said, “I am whatever you say I am…”,

Well, if you choose to see this as an emotional outburst and I a soft gentleman,

then I shall unite with my favourite phenom and echo his call as I would an African chant,

I simply seek to express all that makes me depressed within for I can no longer suppress it, I remain just a man,

And life stands the ever-victorious phenomenon…

I think about the air I breathe back home,

And I can’t compare it to that which I force down my throat in this country in which I now roam,

The men AND women are sadly resigned to mimicking chimneys, cigarette smoke their favourite cologne,

I miss keeping left,

Despite the possession of Kenyan drivers by a maddening spirit, I daresay no one is perfect…

At least there I can feel certain that a female driver will stop to stare at my frame heaven-cleft*,

And in that instant I shall confidently cross the road with a wide smile on my face etched…

I miss MOST the ladies so elegant,

Despite the presence of a substantially higher number of the complete opposite, for which I have no penchant,

Those who ARE as first mentioned are distinctly multivariant

EVEN SO, the one thing they do share is the most important detail, the unadulterated African figure,

A blessing that I, ONCE UPON A TIME, took for granted for I lacked insight…

But that I now cannot help but adore and cherish for I am no longer blindfolded, I see the light,

I’m coming home and treating everything I own, or have a chance to hold, as lovingly as an enlightened man would,

For I have found in my yearning to return, the wood,

to make my fire brighter burn, just as it always should.

Yours dear Kenya, in perpetuity,

Evans Mbora Muthee Campbell.

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