“Chasing Home” by Ifeoluwa Ayandele

Ifeoluwa Ayandele


If your borders could talk,
they would tell you the meaning
of chasing home:

distance is a figurine of faded
fingers tracing home in maps;

assurance is the breath of bombs
spread to the four winds;

holding hands is finding
the vanity of chasing home

& silence is how you learn to
let go of the bullets’ holes at home.

Finding a pillow is finding
a home in solitude. & finding

a home in solitude is finding
how graves bury memory in
the pillow of an empty city.

from Rattle #65, Fall 2019
Tribute to African Poets


Ifeoluwa Ayandele: “After reading Louise Glück’s The Wild Iris, something within me said, ‘There is a story in you, if you can dig deep into your memory.’ That was 2017, and I began to dig into my memory of growing up in rural southwest Nigeria, where grief was a continual part of home and trying to find an alternative becomes a constant desire.” (web)

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