By Alexandra Rosa Fierce is she? Indeed she is. Her curls wrap around her head like a bouquet of wildflowers on a beautiful summer day.

By Kelly Russell When my much younger sister, in her midtwenties now, Tells me during our biweekly zoom sesh that She wants to move to

By Lynda Dolin Jeelyn, my son, my love, my angel, no words are enough to describe the pain and bitterness that your absence causes me.

By Alexandra Rosa Dear Friend, look at you go! It’s inevitable—Your glow, Your spark, Your flame that lights up the sky. Dear Friend, so untamed

By Christo Owens The quilt I resonated with, “African Burial Site,” but I come to it really different. I come to it from my heart.

By Jessie Chuks I am Salt, I give taste, I add flavor I am the chief ingredient I am the most valuable of all I

By Hava Zejnullahu Imagine strolling along a picture-perfect beautiful island beach nothing but a gentle breeze flowing through your hair. You amble along barefooted for

By Alexandra Rosa A newborn crying when it’s just been born. Ssshhh, mama whispers as the baby settles down. The laughter of a family reunion

By Jessie Chuks While your eyeballs are fixated on mine, In a stare not out of affection, But boring deep into my weary soul, Mine

By Maria M. Wilson-Sepulveda I hear the voice of the little girl from a long time ago, Who was happy, scared, sad and sometimes alone.

By Carmen L. Belen I am convinced that any suffering we endure is nothing, compared to the glory that he will reveal to us later.

By Larry Madden I I was jolted awake. Screams, name-calling, and curses downstairs. “You’ll never amount to anything.” The screen door slammed, my oldest sister

By Theresa Quinones/Buccico When conversations are taboo, wounds never heal. Pain is passed down from ancestors along with physical traits; I can hear the echoing

By Louise Burrell My parents were sharecroppers in Sunflower, Mississippi, and we lived in an old shack on Mr. Thomas’s land. The place was so

By Murtaza Akbari When I was a child, my grandfather had a beautiful garden. In the summer the garden was full of colors as flowers

By Donna Evans The day of George Floyd’s funeral I was homebound and feeling vulnerable. I’d just entered into remission from cancer and was still

By Brian K. Johnson My parents were both in the service of the United States Army. My mom, Loretta V. M. Johnson, was a young

By George Thorney I was the only one of my mother’s six children to live with her in childhood. We lived in a wooden seven

By William Murphy My favorite combat position was prone by an ancient elm tree that, despite the exposed roots digging into my skinny ribcage, afforded

By Doreen Samuels One I only have two memories of my mother. One is me sitting in front of her while she combed my hair.

By Jacqueline Doiron Most kids wait for Christmas, some for spring break, and some for the magical time of summer. I wasn’t one of those

By Jamie Thrasher When you are upset and mad at the world, how do you handle those emotions? Punch a pillow? Go for a walk?

By Jess Rivera ARE YOU A PRODUCT OF YOUR ENVIRONMENT? OR ARE YOU A PRODUCT OF YOUR CHOICES? Hey yo, this personal narrative is dedicated

By Debra Francis When I was only twenty years old, I had a four-year-old daughter and I was pregnant again. And I was homeless. My

By Judy Gustafson Monday 5 a.m. I wake up because my heart is pounding, it feels like it’s beating against my rib cage. I’m taking

By Gri Martinez Saex Dear Poetry: I seek your wisdom In this moment of sorrow Of grief I seek the stillness And closeness to self