Circle of women

Your head is a hiveyou are not sure you will survive.Women form a circle around youIn their eyes, your stories flow like The Nile.They collect themand hand you the cup.         Go aheadthey saybut you hesitate.        It’s okaythey sayand you receive. You raise the cup to your lipsand pass…

Jean Rhys

I think of the divided self of Jean Rhys in Dominica, her invisible self in London, and the depth, scope, scale of her writing: What was achievable in her lifetime is achievable now, the winter’s tale of Jean Rhys, and her tragedy of errors, of losing a child, and her failed marriages. She was a…

Looking Forward

Hanging on small dreams the year folds itself in the tired sunset like a mimosa leaf It murmurs and screams new names old promises lies retold at the same place where songs are set on the loose in unplumbed laughter and tears We lay wreaths of frustration with no other option but to see hope…

Peace Be Still

Keyword: Ignite There are times when I could start a riot when I actually want peace Peace be still Peace be even more still for the day is coming Where we shall not long to be united but be one Or at the very least we can hope And maybe this will be our dawn…

Poetra Ama Asantewa Diaka

Poetra Ama Asantewa Diaka is as a young and combative Ghanaian artist, living between the African country and the US. She doesn’t want to be boxed into the definition of “poet” or “writer” – she rather describes herself as a “storyteller“, since the term “encompasses all the ways she can tell a story” – as…

Forgive to be Forgiven

If forgiveness had a formula I would pursue a whole course just to master it. It’s not that I’m in love with the whole concept of forgiveness But I need to learn it and become it. See I’ve been searching for forgiveness for a while now. Singing praises and turning my life into worship just…

I Am a Woman

When I was little I desired to be a woman A very alluring woman Like a lovely violet To love and be loved O! I imagined.   Now I am a woman What more can I inquire? Am I thrilled? Am I loved? Am I myself? Who cares anyway? I’ve learnt to be a woman…

An Exposition of My Fate

A woman is a pot of poisonous honey. A woman and heaven, unpredictable. Yeah, that’s the voice behind the flesh! Cancel her and tell me what affix you will give the nation. Listen. On my way to school reeds sing a song. “Your uncle is on a secret deal, For feeding is a prolong” Yet…

Mothers Sing a Lullaby

(after the 1994 Rwandan genocide) Mothers sing a lullaby As the dark descends on trees Shutting out shadows. The sensuous voices swish and swirl Around shrubs and overgrown grass Hiding mountains of decapitated dead And the glint of machetes That slashed shrieking throats. In these camps without happiness Mothers maintain the melody of life Capturing…

The wife of the born-again Christian husband in Kampala

The faithful wife of a born-again Christian husband is a baffled woman. She will slap her cheeks with a Bible So that she doesn’t laugh at the jokes of a pastor. After all her husband is supposed to provide all the humor that is necessary. She will hold her aching thighs together and pray for…