Ayesha Harruna Attah

It was one of these moments in time when one feels secure, as though all of reality is made up of what can be seen, smelt, touched and explained.

Any good woman

In her senses

With her choices

Would say the

Same

In Asia

Europe

Anywhere:

For

Here under the sun,

Being a woman

Has not

Is not

Cannot

Never will be a

Child’s game

The sadness was not in her words but in her voice. Her eyes. A sudden gust of air blew across from the river as though a ghost had passed. And whatever remained of the day folded itself up and died.

That is why, above all, we have to have our secret language. We must create this language. It is high time we did. We are too old a people not to. We can. We must. So that we shall make love with words and not fear of being overheard.

Though  I  confess  too  that  I  am convinced these cold countries are no places for anyone to be by themselves. Man, chicken, or goat. There is a kind of loneliness overseas which is truly bad. It comes with the cold wind blowing outside the window making the trees
156
moan so.