If I Go Back

if I ‘go back to where I came from’
I will take everything with me.
my mason jars with fireflies, my golden bangles,
my morning coffee.
I will take my earth, my horned melons
and stories of Cleopatra.
I will take that rug, the one you love so much,
with the golden tassels and delicately picked
butterfly wings. I will take my turmeric
my henna, my lemongrass and acacia leaves.

I will take my language, heavy and
soft in the palms of my hands.
I will tuck my afrobeats and hip-hop in my back pocket.
I will carry the moon in my bindle,
my chocolate in a zip-lock bag.
I will carry my baobab and the cash
you owe me in my back pack.

and then you’ll left with naked
kings and queens with concave
bellies and hollow, scooped out eyes
because their fancy fabric, thin
sclera and jewelled crowns belong to me too.

Ama Ata Adioo once said ‘what would the world
be without Africa?’ and I think I know now.
It would no longer grow roses, it would be
void of lyrical words and sweet orange pulp
that melts on my tongue.
the earth would be scaly and dry,
the wind would not whistle.

there would be a dent in the air every time
you took a breath. there
would be no myriad of reds and purples
dancing across the sky.

Khadro Mohamed
from We’re All Made of Lightning, Tender Press (We are Babies), 2022

Over the coming months, Poetry Shelf Monday Poem spot will include poems that have stuck to me over time, poems that I’ve loved for all kinds of reasons. Poems that comfort or delight or challenge. Poems that strike the eye, ear or heart. This poem by Khadro Mohamed aches and connects and speaks heart. It is a poem I keep returning to, with its lattice of pain and love and wisdom, so perfect to read in these turbulent times. I hold this poem close to my heart. Today, in this relentless smash of malignant news, I hold poetry close to my heart.

Khadro Mohamed is a writer and poet from Pōneke, her debut poetry collection We’re All Made of Lightning won an Ockham NZ Book award in 2023. She’s currently working on a fiction novel.