It’s dark in her heart, and her life suffering symptoms of totally bleak night
No light, torching her murky shadows
But she knows her path
But can’t walk home.
You think home is where you’ve place to shelter
To stretch your legs, lie low the couch?
You think that’s home
Your birthplace, cradle of your birthstone?
That’s not home
Home is everywhere, where
A girl child poses fit before life
Not mansions with balconies of hunger
Not country parks with ranches of sorrow.
Home, still, no longer home
When the imam preaches terror
The priest, monetarily mental
Greed feeding on the flock
– pocket wise.
So where is your home?
Mimy, the girl sitting alone
Down a bantu zone
Where do you call home?