The Sad Story of a Ghanaian Lady

She smiled as she walked on this pavement of broken dreams

Nobody suspected the longing in heart for home


Nor the truth welled up in her deep brown eyes


She recalls the speed of the flight which landed her here


Here where the sun doesn't shine daily


Here where her beautiful dark skin tone pales in winter


Here where everybody is a social security number


Here where everybody is lost in translation


Perhaps-she would be one of the many


Or perhaps she would be one of the few who would age in exile

She knows what she came here for-she wont leave without it


Her mind is already made up-there is no convincing her


She has got a good job but she sleeps next to loneliness


She knows people but she cannot call them friends


She has become too White to fit in the Black community


Too Black to fit the description of a White lady


I see her in her room


Biting her finger nails and watching Oprah

These White men are not my type-she says


But she is too afraid to go Black














Surely-when it rains it pours-so don't let it confuse you


I am not of the many but of the few


I have not come to give you Rome without Caesar


Nor my dry tears to quench your burning thirst

You could turn the pages I would read them out loud


To chase away the deafening sound of your silence


It's a man on bended knees begging to be with you


Begging to be of, by, and for you


This I told her


She answered me with contempt-so I left











Now-she has got herself a boy who calls himself a man

He slaps her every now and then to feel like a man


He beats the shit out of her but she calls it love


She blames herself when he does her wrong


I cried the last time that I saw her


She didn't look like she used to


She tried to look the other way in shame


But I had not forgotten her name


Hello-she said


And my heart just sank