Poet: Tawiah Mensah

You Would Love It Here, I Promise – Tawiah Mensah

I still speak, with a stutter.

I read a story once

about a girl who gathered her anger and her warmth, set herself on fire,

and never let out a cry.

I envy her strength and thirst after her freedom

Till You Call Us by Name – Tawiah Mensah

I was born with a colour that sits with the sun,

And tells stories about cracked clay pots and fighting women. I was born with arrows drawn on my face,

showing men with claws where to dig in and feast.