the scattering

          after the war,
          some people still remember who they are.
          they pick up their knees from the smashed ones of their family members
          tie dried bones together with raffia palm
          gather singed hair into a sack
          and leave the war zone without looking back.

          they make homes
          out of seashells
          and God
          out of the ocean.

          they say whatever they remember
          from their old languages
          with shaky, white tongues.

          women sew their white wrappers into flowy gowns
          make necklaces from pebbles of their detonated homes
          and reach into their stomachs
          to tear out their dead foetuses
          to plant again. it’s a new dawn, we will make home
          only of what we’ve got.

Omotoyosi Salami is a poet from Nigeria. Her work has appeared in Kalahari Review, Brittle Paper, and other journals. TWITTER
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