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2 Articles
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Nostalgia by Rahma O. Jimoh
Fadeyi wakes me with train whistlesor the call to prayer, unlike home,where Dad’s voice rouses me from sleep,sometimes the cock crowingbeside my window. I haven’t hearda cock crow in months.Those who leave home soon develop eyesthat notice the potholes on the road back.Not me, I now adore home more thanbefore my feet hurried me outbefore my head led me down the pathof destiny, my wings fluttered out—I was only just a butterfly: innocent,ignorant…
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Leaning Left1Leaning Right0Center0Last UpdatedBias Distribution100% Left
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