Poetry by Yewande Akinse

Lagos.

I hear your name as Parisian clouds hover around me

your scented air hounds my fondest memories

as I, am a nomad on pilgrimage

I remember you – the congestion of your borders, the scarceness of power and the erraticism of sanity

I have wandered long enough on your shores for my essence to reek of your touch

and my youth of wanton caress

this mind is not the same.

I left to return on a day I know not of

I know, I am not the same

for Lagos is not for the weak
it is a trigger for the broken
leaving many words left unspoken
Lagos changes you in unspeakable ways.

this mind is not the same

Place.

what is a place?

is it the geography of unmined lands

or the minted currency of an economy

is it the uniqueness of tribe and tongue

or the hegemony of constituencies

what is in a place?

is it the rhythm of its people

or the poetry of its history

is it in its air or water

mass or in its land marks

what is a place?

is it a coming from or going into

an origin or a birthing

is it in the ecology of its noon

or in the density of rain

what is in a place?

is it in bodies hibernating in the sun

or in the cathedral or crescent

is it in divergence or shared descent

or in the here and now

what is in a place?

Bio