When I got off the plane in Ghana, I had the strongest urge to press my forehead to the ground
to open my arms and hug the earth.
To squeeze the belly of this land I had thought so much about and learned so much about,
this land I had loved so and hated so.
This place, this great, big, -smack- in my face called
Africa, Mother, Home.
How did I resist laying my chest in the soil and watching it move the earth beneath me?
The swift pounding of my heart on the land I used to know.
Axe
Rachel
