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Free Freedom
I wrote this poem while reflecting on the fragile state of our sovereignty and democracy, not just as a nation, but as a continent. The idea that there was a time when we were not free, when we had to fight for our independence, feels profoundly absurd. And to imagine that we now celebrate Independence… Read more
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Blank Page
We used to say, “Here’s my blank page, my paragraph shall start with yours.” A blank page implied the need to be filled with something; magic words,rituals, dreams, hopes, a simple “hello” to a familiar face,or prayers whispered to resurrect the dead. Sometimes the page was always filled in, with cuddles, kissesplanted on the creases… Read more
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(𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫, 𝐨𝐫, 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡, 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞?)
What set Seth as an incredible poet was perhaps his honesty, and his ability to create a mountain from mud. To him, it’s in the barely noticeable things from which we draw strength and meaning. Whenever he got on stage, he would share how he conceived his poems. He occasionally did Rap, not that he… Read more
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When a Man Cries.
When a man cries, its thunder trapped in a vacuum, where the night falls into sleepless ominous darkness. There is no one but him with tears like glaciers thawing, and seeping into riverbeds. He is the still waters beneath the ocean, calm and unperturbed; you hear no sound of his, only heavy breaths. When a… Read more
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A Melancholia of the Drunk
She loved him unconditionally that when it came the time to fall off, they did so gracefully. Because they had had enough of each other. There was nothing to mend. Nothing was broken. They only faded from each other like a distant past fleeting away in time. As they turned their backs on the ship,… Read more
Phill Ibsen, M.o.D
The Master of Descriptions
