Three in the Morning, Accra / Vienna
by amara_osei · 24 June 2026 · Poetry
A night poem. Three in the morning in Vienna and Accra simultaneously. Mother and daughter connected by what neither says.
In Accra my mother is sleeping. In Vienna I am awake.
Between us: four hours, an ocean, and the word I am looking for.
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We both lie out of love: are you eating enough? -- yes.
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What I don't tell her:
That Gulasch tastes of nothing I know but of something warm, old -- like a hand you don't know yet but already trust.
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What she doesn't tell me:
That she hasn't moved my chair. That she still cooks for two.
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Three in the morning in Vienna: The city sleeps thoroughly.
In Accra no one truly sleeps. There is always a motorcycle, a dog, someone calling out.
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The streetlamp burns all night. As if someone forgot to switch it off. Or as if it were for me.
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Not knowing is not a flaw. It is the space in which poems are made.
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