A new poem!
A thud and a
It was the gentle wave and weight of the wind
That brought you.
We are not talking gold here:
Liquid yet self-assured and tough
Tactile and malleable
Restless, rust-less, regal,
Forever found, never lost.
My Sister, it’s about yellow.
Soft as the music that played
The morning they wheeled out our mother’s
Yellow, my Brother, is a farewell.
It’s what gets left
When the greening is gone,
And before the crystal white, the copious brown, and
The grim grey of our
– by Ama Ata Aidoo (Lashibi, 11/12/2015)