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Rural by Jessica Hite

dirt roads.
redder than the blood
that spilled to make them.
glistening dark skin
pressed against
rich, white cotton.

sunday picnic baskets.
the finest leisure day clothes,
black bodies drifting
in the summer breeze.

an orange rolled
every morning
by withered black hands.
a sweetness to cast off
the sour of sickness.

too many mouths;
not enough chicken
or eggs or vegetables.
only cents, instead of dollars.
the living not shared—only cropped.

anywhere but here.
pack up and head north.
where nigger is negro,
still bitter and stinging,
but manageable.

long car rides
to grandmother’s house.
ten kids to two rooms,
but we complain about six.

still dirt roads.
strange fruit has
rotted to the ground.
now bullets chase
black bodies
along with the summer breeze.

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“Grey” by Alnaika

Panic struck as I felt a slip back into old habits
Why is this path so easy to follow?
Don’t follow me
For I would only lead us into disarray
I can’t help but be his damsel in distress
Filled with disappointment
The plan is to micro manage
For I cannot let go of control
I cried over the loss of perfection
I shattered glass to relax my anger
It didn’t break as I would hope for
My clouded judgement left doubt in my mind
I went to bed with thoughts of failure,
after I woke up feeling grey.

Photo by The Korus on Unsplash

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Top 10 Posts of 2017— No. 1

The Night-Long Lament: Contemplation & Prayer

IG: @shadesofherink

Read other work by Samihah at:


Warm tear drops kiss my hand on this cold night. The sky is tinged with a deep purple, a quiet purple. Even amongst the stars, there is only silence. I envy anyone who is able to find direction using them, to see a compass in darkness. I merely see what is before me. Three in a row, four on the outskirts forming a misshapen rectangle. Two more, faded, somewhere in the middle of it all. Orion’s belt. I could never forget constellations after my first time recognising them. Only, this time, I felt forgotten by them. Neglected. They are still. You feel silent to me today. This water is cold as well, in the deep end of it where I sit. Water is supposed to feel warmer on the skin after some time. I have been sitting here for a while, a long while. Waiting. I have been waiting. The moon is nowhere to be seen. Not a slither of its light shows for as far as I can see.

The moon captured slightly behind clouds
                                                                                     A slither of light

Tonight I am in darkness surviving off the somber glow of these stars alone. Tonight, I am small and the universe is too vast to consider this humbled being. This search for guidance has rendered me unnerved. Unheard. I am screaming, from my lungs through my eyes and I know I am not loud enough. I am gentle. I am excruciatingly soft. The wind will travel skies carrying my cry to the heavens and I will still be waiting for You to answer me, my Lord. I cannot hear You or see You or feel You in this moment, however long this moment may last but I believe, fiercely.

You are listening

and I will wait.

– Samihah Pargas

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Top 10 Posts 2017— No. 5

They Aint Our Neighbors

IG: @shaunteriwrites

Read other work by Shaunteri at:


 they weren’t neighbors.

they couldn’t be.

they wouldn’t let them be

because they were just


Continue reading Top 10 Posts 2017— No. 5

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