Today, We stand on a stage Held up by our mothers, fathers, ancestors, Being watched by those to come. Maita Baba, Maita Amai, Maita Madzitateguru…  Gone are the days, When other hands covered our mouths, Other voices told our stories, Other pens drew black and white lines on our maps That separ
Ember flares, breathe in. The crackle of ash tickles my throat, open your eyes, this wallow high never lasts long enough.  This group I’m in feels dizzy–– none of my friends see straight morality twisting, turning birthing from our torsos, double helixes. Like staying in bed all day. Â
Yo Soy Latina,  hija de inmigrantes, mujer de color, primera generación en los Estados Unidos, aquà desde el Sur.  Chicas como yo no han sido escuchadas en esta institución predominantemente blanca.  Mi piel puede llevarte por mal camino Mi acento y presencia es lo que aleja a todos Pero
By Julia Voyt Pages and pages of 12 size Times New Roman are bled across the paper feverishly, introductions and statistics under methods and conclusions. Not eating food and my bicep is smaller this week I talk faster to my family and I write, write, write. The earth outside smells different and sw
By Gabrielle Crone       Only a hillbilly would bring their injured dog to the vet using twine as a leash. At least that’s what our vet, Westley, announced when he saw my grandpa, Charles Bailey, in the lobby of the clinic twine leash in hand. Gizmo had injured his paw, most [&helli
By Emma Gail Compton I made the table I eat dinner at. The wood was cheap but sturdy. The stain I chose is a dark oaky red and makes the small round table seem more expensive than it was. One could find something similar at any store, but this table, my table, I made. I […]