It might take more than a decade for you to reach your dreams Maybe half a century for you to rewrite the narrative and swim against the stream You determine the rise and fall of this era so don’t stay on the sidelines be part of the team Do the SWOT thing so you dont…
An Aquafer
I’m a solid rusty ground My chest A magma kind of rock But deep underneath it I’m an aquifer That runs a thousand feet deep Roaring silently Swirling quietly Like a tornado Waiting to come to surface An endless sea that takes off the land To evacuate no more Link to the Italian translation
Jean Rhys
I think of the divided self of Jean Rhys in Dominica, her invisible self in London, and the depth, scope, scale of her writing: What was achievable in her lifetime is achievable now, the winter’s tale of Jean Rhys, and her tragedy of errors, of losing a child, and her failed marriages. She was a…
Pain: Who Am I?
Pain too has got beauty The beauty of pain is healing When healing comes Pain is remembered But Pain is not felt Pain too has got depth The depth of pain is lesson When lesson comes Pain is remembered Pain is felt Pain too has got malice The malice of pain is death When death…
Forget (Arua) Remember (Pakwac)
Forget how the rolling hills stopped rolling and began unfolding into flatlands. You have left the badlands. Forget how the sky opened and left behind skyscrapers and scraped knees bleeding into pavement and how blood paved your way into estrangement. Your scraped skin already belonged to the streets and the wounds flowering on your body…
A Kind Of Architectural Grief
In the place of slaughter blood stains are not an anomaly. Normally, the stain of love begins with a government’s betrayal, a sacrilegious feast on the battered dreams of migrant workers chimurenga wars and forgotten anthems of freedom. a salary and a salt plea for…
I traverse the world
I traverse this world as though As though I am not supposed to be here Not as a Christian with a view of her heavenly home No I traverse the world as though Permission must be granted Permission must be granted to sit in that spot Swim in that pool Of ignorance That paved open…
Black Queen
Ayo sis! Why do u still let him Let him hit you Smug you Belittle you Oh I don’t like your hair babe That handsome baritone voice man says U ain’t that pretty babe you need make up Don’t embarrass me That man you call half be says Sis Nooooo! Hes no man! He’s a…
Child Not Bride
Under the silvery stare of the moon The children sat to listen to soul refreshing tales Beneath the starry blue skies, we laughed and galloped our ignorance of the world away It was in the nakedness of the breeze that I learned to smile my soul away And I enjoyed it A perfect peace But…
Alith Cyer Mayar
Alith Cyer Mayar is a writer, poem and activist. She was born in 1997 in Khartoum, Sudan, and grew up in different places as Uganda and South Sudan. She attendend the Sudan Academy for Medical and Technological Studies training as a nurse. During that time, she volunteered for different hospitals and clinics. In the meanwhile…