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Stories Poems Essays

The Child Thief

“I am not the only one battling demons. We are the remains of the day. The longing and horror of despair.”

Wess Mongo Jolley Poetry Collection

“Birds will peck apart my life, scraps blown like snowy leaves, blue-veined paper reduced to pulp by early winter rain.”

The Loneliness of Loss

“Her touch. Her tone. Comforts? Cajoles? I can’t translate the language they’re communicating.”

A.C. Yeboah Poetry Collection

“what if you never said sorry for taking up the space you hold, you no longer nursed your pain like a fever-high toddler.”

Contingency Daughter

“An impatient horn outside sends me running from the room, down the stairs, and into the star-filled night.”

Arrival

I stumble out of the matatu taxi, struggle to hoist up my weighty backpack, and am immediately confronted by several people standing nearby under the leafy canopy of a large thorny acacia tree.

Children of the Border

Arziki said, “I laid down in the desert with the dead bodies. I played dead so the men would leave me alone. It is not easy for me to do,” she said, smiling ear to ear.

Words

“Words were minced into morsels that she could spit across the room like outrageous profanities.”