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ahsi
earth
A child's image of the world is palpable Can be stretched into distortion Twisted into confusion If a child is raised in flames She will not recognize she is being burned If a child is in constant hunger He will not realize he is being starved If a child's fate is perpetually at the hands of another Their body will know no peace Their mind will become a puddle of faded memories Their soul a spirit, trying to break free Of the strong hands that restrain them.
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May 24
May 24, 2026 at 12:34 AM UTC
No Peace Child
They sat on patchy grass below a starlit sky The potent smell of petrichor filled the air But it was not stronger than her citrus perfume Her eyes wandered into the beauty ahead The other gazed into her face Their eyes hooked onto each others The soft glow of the moon revealed a sense of longing That resided between the two A longing that had been disguised in a loom bracelet Hidden in the laughter that so often fell between them Concealed in the selfies with prom dates posted for the world to see But the two girls could never confess their truths The two girls were celestial bodies Hidden in the same starry night.
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May 10
May 10, 2026 at 11:37 PM UTC
Celestial Bodies
When a white person asks me where I’m from I might say; “Well, I’m American of course .” Because I know what they are really asking. When a black person asks me where I’m from I might say; “Where I’m from? Or where I’m from?” Because yes, there is a difference. Now they’ll respond with ***** you know what I mean” And then he will kiss his teeth And then we will laugh We will laugh because we understand each other. There’s a secret language that only black people speak You can’t find it in any book In any encyclopedia In anything written You can only find it within a black body. It’s spoken through A side eye at the girl beside you A kiss of the teeth after a stupid question Palms rubbing together after a clever remark So the next time a white person asks me where im from I might say- “From a place that speaks without words.”
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Mar 10
Mar 10, 2026 at 7:39 AM UTC
Two Different Questions
I woke up angry Because the days don’t seem to change. I might cry as I brush my teeth Or snap at my father for no reason I will go to school To be fed information That will be forgotten after the test I will sit in the library Mindlessly doing homework I’ll soon return home Bones heavy with lethargy But I can’t go to sleep So I ignore my screaming body Hours pass I will wash off the day I will sit with my family Or alone in the darkness of my bedroom Then finally, I crawl into bed Many nights end with me crying That must be why- I woke up angry.
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Mar 9
Mar 9, 2026 at 6:53 AM UTC
Why I Wake Up Angry
Sometimes, when I close my eyes at night The only thing I can imagine is death The only thing in the world, that is promised to every soul And granted to every being is death Its strange you see, my fear of dying contradicts many of my thoughts Sometimes when I close my eyes at night The only thing I can imagine is death I pictured my plump body lurching off of a building And plummeting into a deep mysterious water, never to be seen again Sometimes when I close my eyes at night The only thing I can imagine is death I would fantasize about sticking the barrel of a gun down my throat Allow my finger to linger on the trigger, and blow my brains out Sometimes when I close my eyes at night The only thing I can imagine is death And yet- I am afraid of the one thing I long for.
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Mar 8
Mar 8, 2026 at 11:39 PM UTC
The Thing I Long For
I feel a strong hand on my breast, fondling it so, so gentle Another hand on my cheek, stroking it with such tenderness that it lulls me to sleep And the hands don't move in my restful state, They are frozen in the moment But years pass, and the hands melt Because now I am awake Now, my body is hot, burning with fury So blistering the room is up in flames Because now I see that the touch was neither gentle nor tender And that there were a dozen hands.
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Dec 24, 2025
Dec 24, 2025 at 9:29 PM UTC
Ephemerally Everlasting
A beam of sunlight escapes through the kitchen curtains It goes through the glass vase on the dining table And onto my golden brown skin I can see patterns of the light through my eyelids My head lies on the cool white tile My hands sit above my navel My feet brushing against the wall I hear my mother speaking Wolof on the phone, “Naakam? Waaw, hallai bahna” The smell of okra and beef dance around the kitchen I inhale and exhale, counting my breaths Until a tall shadow comes over me I open my eyes, and my mother is in view “Kai laika” she looks at me, with her phone between her cheek and shoulder A wooden spoon in one hand And a baby on her back I crawl out of the warm sunlight That shined through my closed eyes That shined onto my golden brown skin That shined through the vase on the dining table That shined from the kitchen window curtains.
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Dec 24, 2025
Dec 24, 2025 at 9:28 PM UTC
Nostalgia
I can't see I can't see at all. Im being consumed by an Everlasting void of darkness I try to lift my feet But they are glued to the ground beneath me. The only sounds are my heaving breaths Echoing in the emptiness around me I can’t see I can’t see at all.
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Dec 24, 2025
Dec 24, 2025 at 9:26 PM UTC
Eyes
Gambia is the feeling you get when your mother says, “I love you” And it smells like a ripe mango That grew from the tree in your aunties backyard Gambia tastes sweet like fresh kaba and sugarcane Gambia is sitting on a sheet And sharing a plate of Benechin with your family Keeping the door to the compound open So the stray cat can come in and out as she pleases And being sure to save a piece of fish just for her Gambia is walking across the red dirt road to the cornershop When you’re craving a cup of warm milk tea Or a piece of tapalapa bread To split with your cousins Gambia is throwing stones at palm trees And learning how to husk coconuts with your siblings But being very careful not to cut your fingers with the cleaver Because the man who picks the coconuts hasn't come in weeks Gambia is the place you never want to say goodbye to So you squeeeeeze onto every minute you're there And pray that you’ll come back to visit Because Gambia is your home, and it's the feeling you get with your mother says, “I love you.”
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Dec 24, 2025
Dec 24, 2025 at 9:25 PM UTC
Gambia is The Feeling You Get When Your Mother Says “I love you”
She smiles anytime a black girl looks at her, Because she wants her to know that they are one and the same Because she needs her to feel the support that she never had She's the black girl that keeps Malcolm X's autobiography tucked under her armpit And has memorized it word for word for word for word The black girl that reads Maya Angelou religiously, to make sure she never forgets that she is Phenomenal Woman, and that it is, “In the stride of my step” She’s the black girl that keeps her wrists drowning in gold And her neck swimming in it So you can hear her bangles jingling from miles away She keeps her cowrie shell bracelet on because it's her true culture She's the black girl that smells of cocoa butter And has skin as smooth as silk, She is the living embodiment of the word “prosperity” She’s the black girl that values knowledge like a pacifist values peace She knows that knowledge is power, But her blackness is a stronger one.
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Dec 24, 2025
Dec 24, 2025 at 9:22 PM UTC
That Black Girl