Who is the woman, the world asks
The mind blowing smallness of an existence.
We are the riddle the world is still solving
And a reason why men take a stance
We walk with purpose and our image lingers; mirrors
We, we become a God soaked metaphor when we support each other
The woman is a creature not carefully moulded,
But seriously needed,
A rib taken to make life meaningful to mankind,
In Odomankoma’s own wisdom,
The woman came to being,
Wisdom surrounds her,
Strength, she never lacks,
Yet, she is brushed aside like she never matters
The African woman is thought from some fairly sculptured stone
She uses this strength to unravel her emotions
She tells of her love life
And she’s rejected and mocked by society
To them, it’s odd
She’s odomankoma’s tiny little creature walking home all alone
As the universe slowly rolled and rolled on by
Her sight was bleak, roaming the lonely sky
Sometimes a breath left her chest, a rising song
But she had forgotten the rhythm of the gong
She could not remember how the lyrics began
Her life was simple and ordinary without plan
Yet, many despise her and wish to tear her apart,
She wishes to fight
But society mocks her when she does,
So she walks away in fear,
When she stands,
Her legs shiver,
Tears roll down her cheeks everyday but she still keeps the head up,
She never quits
Because she doesn’t know how to.
She’s the pillar to lean on
Yet, men have gathered around her with hammers,
To break and destroy her.
This African woman is the many reasons “to live and die for”
Don’t get me wrong; she isn’t Christ.
From society despising her and tearing her apart
To a long winding menstruation cycle
To always being ranked second, even in the Bible
She wishes to fight and never quit
Still she had grown up attractive, innocent, and shy
When she tells of her shyness, people look at her in amazement
Her gentle eyes were always filled with surprise
To the world of mankind she is the African Woman.
She wants to be pampered, caressed and loved to forget her yesterday’s.
As she wondered if a woman could be free of a man
For people heard her voice sweet and strong
But deep inside she knew they were so wrong
Life ate her sweet flesh, and left an empty bowl
So sometimes she smiled at the world around her
In her heart firing a massive mysterious tale
She wondered if the creator too was a female.
Poetry (A Duet) : A Ghanaian Boy (AGB) & Poetess Akosua