This week’s poem, which is really last week’s, but I could not post because of weak network where I was in the north of Uganda, is inspired by the experience of being back here after over 7 years away in Asia and Europe.

African Woman

Flinging anchor and line

The scene of the crime

I’ve returned to where it all started 

I’ve tossed to the wind

The sense of my skin

I find it no longer suffices

Green depth and red heat

Gold warmth and black beat

Sweet virtues and soft whispering vices

I’ve fought through my fight

I’m claiming the right

To be an African woman

Arua 2017

I have for a number of years, written a poem on or around my birthday, looking back at the past year. Usually I love looking back at the events and lessons of life, but this year was a hard one. It is one of those years that everything else that happens will be remembered in relation to whether it was before or after that date.

Fifty-one

It‘s that calendar day when I check off another year

A year I could not imagine I’d live through

A year full of dates and events I shall never forget

A year with more tears than laughter

But in the end, the best of years

The year my son survived

Kampala, October 2017