Grandma’s Chair | Zizipho Godana | Poetry
The chair was a pause in the room. Its legs rooted into a square of shadow the sun refused to cross. Wood darkened there, learning stillness the way old bones do. Nothing touched it. Not reverence, not fear. Years softened the joints. Memory worked inward, loosening what once knew how to bear. Then weight. […]
Black News 
The chair was a pause in the room. Its legs rooted into a square of shadow the sun refused to cross. Wood darkened there, learning stillness the way old bones do. Nothing touched it. Not reverence, not fear. Years softened the joints. Memory worked inward, loosening what once knew how to bear. Then weight. […]
