“…Somehow, every one of us is in exile
We travail lands in this alien world,
praying somehow we find our way
to a home of warmth, beauty and comfort…
Many times, we find holes and in place of the fires of our desire
ashes to leave us cold. Things are never the same
for us but in our several ways, calling Him whatever name,
we pray Aondo’s grace
to lead us above the times to better days, and to that promised
This is our tale.”
There it was, lying carelessly on the floor, surrounded by others like it, just not in its league; Literature amidst Academia.
I caught a glimpse, then gave more attention to the novel in hand but each time I read a line, I would long to read that one about home and holes. I would yearn to know what mystery lay within it.
But it wasn’t meant to be read. Not just yet. It had to wait its turn. Lord knew what it was doing lying about carelessly! My mind willed me to put it back in its place, with its kind, yet my naked self would not allow me leave the comfort of my mattress. Hours later, I would close my eyes and dream of love, money, children, life and I would awake to find sustenance and there, see the book, caress it and read. Why? I love poetry. I read poems, I get lost in that other world…of imagination. Sometimes.
‘HOME EQUALS HOLES: Tale of an Exile’ by Su’eddie Agema. I’m inspired by him. Find this book. Read.
Aondo: Tiv name for God.