The hustling,
The bustling,
The endless rustling —
Journeying through,
My eyes reel,
My heart screeches,
My soul needing retraining —
This hush life not mine.
Stepping into my homeland,
I knew displacement.
The air too thick,
The pace too fast,
The noise — a rhythm I never learned.
From a country serene,
I came,
Where peace was my daily bread,
And calm held me like a lover.
But here —
Here my spirit recoils,
My heart protests,
My eyes hurl against the rush
Of this my Nigeria.
Blood of Nigeria,
But bred in another’s heart —
I tasted peace and bliss
In this, my adopted home.
Can I deny my country?
My lineage trips there,
My name sings of its soil —
But my spirit whispers
In another tongue.
A proud Nigerian —
Am I?
I laugh.
Yet still,
My roots — Nigeria.
I am torn in between accepting my identity as a Nigerian or denying it