All the milk I spilt and never cried over
Haunts my curdled thoughts of manhood.
Whose hand shall I hold to stop the aching
Of loneliness in a sea of smiling souls.
I’ve been roaming the face of this earth with a
Splinter in my gut,
Second guessing every pure thought I ever conjured.
The ache in my heaving chest oscillates between mind and heart.
Does the bellow of childhood muffled rage quieten
As we inflate into adulthood?
I can’t tell.
I’m too busy pouring my tears back into my eyes to feign
Wellness in a world that worships perfection.
I’m too busy building hopes on stolen land.
Because, what is home?
Is it a house of brick, mortar, wood, grass and glass?
Is it a memory of taste or muscle?
Could it be an emotion cradled by the forgivingness of nostalgia?
Perhaps it’s the very air I breathe?
The feeble, timid, vigorously thudding heart keeps whispering that home is in fact…
Everywhere, Nowhere, Elsewhere and Wherever the heart finds it.

Written by Frank Malaba

Image by Harsh Gupta

Published by: Frank Malaba

Frank Malaba is an actor, playwright and a published poet. He was born in Bulawayo, Zimbabwe and currently resides in Cape Town, South Africa. He has performed on stage and television in both countries. He has a passion for using poetry, storytelling and theatre as a method of healing for both himself and others. His poetry has been presented both at home and abroad. Frank is currently developing a two-man play entitled “Broken Pathways” which will be touring internationally. In 2014 Frank was recognised by Mail & Guardian's 200 Young South Africans as an Achiever in the category of Arts & Culture.

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