Finding joy in motion,
Savouring the thrill of speed,
Living life on the go,
Reflecting on light speed years
Thinking of home in exile
Where colours clash and create races,
Humans in different castes and classes.
Who do not drink from the same cup
Due to the pandemic of the skin
And multicultural diarrhea.
Tired limbs litter the streets when the sun 
sets on human kindness and the unmerciful skies close in on the weak and the defenceless in the backyard of the First World.
They are nothing but human ironies lying on concrete slabs exposed to the elements in climes that worship Human Rights,
Where the unnatural sun never sets, the forgotten of the earth sleep with severe cold and darkness in their hearts.
Motion brings but fleeting joy to the exiled heart. The earth goes by, beautiful and adorable, great greens that make us forget the social crises that people our hearts. But to live in the moment is to suspend the future which approaches from the past.
Walled walk ways meeting ringing rivers, birds humming the season’s symphony in late July, buses carrying silent faces past Northumbria’s golden citadel, excited hands exchanging brewed cups in cafes, impatient feet waiting for the traffic to say, ‘Go’, young school children forced to take off their jackets in the summer heat; all are an entertainment to the bored heart of the exiled mind.
Home sings its own music but the guitar’s cords are worn and the tune’s vibration is weakened by the distance of the mind. Home songs are a rarity to the exiled mind; for home is a marker of ambivalence: a place to love and to hate.
So you wonder and wander around a home where you do not belong. Loving people who think you an outsider, seeking validation in temporary shelters until you are completely spent in the pockets and the heart.
Then the same motion drives you home, where you will seek joy through supplication and where uncertainties make you certain of God’s existence.
©Eyoh Etim, 2023.