Your Roses

I saw the roses you got me.

They were beautiful.

They had thorns,

Much like our relationship,

The red as deep as the lipstick I wear,

To impress you on dates,

The smell as intoxicating as yours when we hug.

But the biggest similarity you have with the roses;

They wilted and faded after sometime,

Just like you did. 

Zakkiyah Ibrahim is a poet and student living in Freetown, Sierra Leone

KOYA

When shall we meet in Koya

My beautiful Limba boy?

The Saharan winds bring a chill to my bones

Only your quirky smile can warm me.

Yae needs a new lappa and lalli for her nails. I’ll follow her to the market place and convince her to stay the night at your mama’s house. Don’t be mad if I ignore you. Our parents have eyes behind their heads. These women know what we are thinking before we open our mouths.

Never fear. When darkness descends and dampens their spirits. When drowsy, they absentmindedly gaze into the community fire , not listening to the children telling stories of bush devils and mami wata- we’ll sink into the night.

Holding hands, teeth gleaming

Hearts in our throats

Let us meet in Koya !

My beautiful Limba boy

We’ll make for ourselves a bed of fallen leaves

On the banks of the sacred river

Our bodies shall define Love.

Adeola Carew is Freetown-based writer and poet.