Every thought aches for a great reward From a massive heap of anxiety the cringing brakes stall Behind today’s chains of hustle in a young woman’s life As though it be un-enough she dared be seen and not just heard To fit in rugged spaces not designed for two Yet awaken tomorrow still judged for…
About Development
They tripped over that strange opaque place Lunged, twisted, and nearly fell on their face Gained ground on a rebound and then Fled from the potential site of their fall from grace This is the pattern repeated often, Never explained but should not be forgotten Not by those who witness the chasm Between the have’s…
Silence
Silence shall not Calm the waters nor free us. Silence shall not Prosecute nor stop them. Silence shall imprison us Enslave our souls. Silence shall tie our hands While they strip off our clothes Please their hands in our lions. And even then Silence shall not Let us moan in ecstasy. Link to the Italian…
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…
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…
The Broken Mirror: to teach people to hate themselves…
Who are you? I am Angel. No, really, who are you? I am George Stop playing around! I am Hanson, Ferguson, Manson, Johnson, Ellison I am… Zombie Lost in the ways of my people, my identity, my heritage I am the soulless black-white being that haunts the screens of materialism in the face of my…
The Honey Pot
Amina soaps up her breasts, her thighs and her derriere Amina squats and washes her honey pot it doesn’t produce much honey these days Amina washes the suds from her hair and skin She has used the expensive rose-scented bath oil that Fiifi gave to her on her birthday He likes it Amina dries herself…
The 3rd
1- My rebelliousness cowered at the sound of bullets and teargas. 2- I stood behind my parents words and their fear of losing me in the mess. 3- Collapsing needs one to be standing.. but I was already lying down when my mother called to tell me about the news she was watching on TV….
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…