SHE WANTED TO BELIEVE, by Gloria Siamte

I’m amaze how she put a smile or act like nothing ever happened,
Like the sun always shine upon her,
Like her cup runneth over always.
Like her thoughts were always light
And her heart merry.
Then, one day she just disappear,
Into nothingness.
No trace, no clues
And people whispered the big Why…?

Maybe it wasn’t acute,
Maybe it has started since her childhood,
Expressing through different metamorphosis.
Then days and years of struggle to just live.
Maybe her tears finally ran dry,
Her loneliness wasn’t something that can be shared like happiness.
Her heart loaded with grief upon herself.
Maybe she lamented upon herself
Upon her own dead spirit for years.
Maybe she learned how to smile to hide her sufferings
And silence to hide away her scream for help,
To be safe from getting stigmatized.

Her mind find no escape from the tormenting thoughts.
Eating up her soul,
Burying her heart.
Never seem to change a bit even till that fateful day or in future.
She tried her best working hard, burning the midnight oil to find life, to find dreams, to find love.
Every rejections and failures led her back to the very point where it all began.
That darkness will always find way to crawl back in,
Leading her back to it’s world.
Never seem to leave her.
Make her feel like the end seem more peaceful.

Then, she decided to step away.
The sum of all thoughts,
The sum of all fights,
The sum of all shame,
The sum of all tears,
The sum of all fears.
Seem like the cure but she has just pass it on..
“There is light at the end of the tunnel”, they said.
She wanted to believe…

Demoiselle, by James Morgan-Jones

Let’s be direct: Beautiful Demoiselle.
What naming could be apter? In noon-light
a sliver of midnight blue comes spinning
from Hades’ palette, frailly fluttering,
a butterfly blue from the underworld.
Yet not quite: no sheer lepidopteran
makes this skittery, whirligig descent,
achieves in repose such sleek elegance.

He rests like a svelte blue pin, superbly
singular, wings deep-dipped in indigo:
pure concept lodged brilliant in spinel.
Such exquisite difference brings profound
gratification, a joy extinguished
in the homogenised world we fashion.

When I dream I’ll drink some of his lustre,
bask in the resplendence of my colours –
what flagrant beauty then in dynamism,
such glory mirrored in heaven’s dark glass.

Are You Willing to be Forgotten? — Pastor Resources

wildsoundwritingfestival's avatarWILDsound Writing Festival

Pastor Resources · Are You Willing To Be Forgotten – Menikoff You’ve probably never heard the name Oswald Avery. Not long after the influenza pandemic of 1918, he devoted himself to finding the cause of this horrific virus. Avery lived in a laboratory, hovering over petri dishes and test tubes. Unfortunately, each research experiment […]

via Are You Willing to be Forgotten? — Pastor Resources

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Robin Morgan — 1960s: Days of Rage

Robin Morgan, Susan Brownmiller, and Gloria Steinem “Robin Morgan (born January 29, 1941) is an American poet, author, political theorist and activist, journalist, lecturer, and former child actor. Since the early 1960s she has been a key radical feminist member of the American Women’s Movement, and a leader in the international feminist movement. Her 1970 anthology […]

via Robin Morgan — 1960s: Days of Rage

NAACP Troy Branch hosting Juneteenth commemoration — WETM – MyTwinTiers.com

Juneteenth commemorates the arrival of union troops to Texas in 1865 to free all remaining slaves. Today, the NAACP Troy branch will be hosting their first ever NAACP sponsored festival and commemoration.

via NAACP Troy Branch hosting Juneteenth commemoration — WETM – MyTwinTiers.com

“Ignorance is bliss”. — Sam Cottle

And as I went about looking for the structure of sound, for chaosIn the dimmed tide and the luminescence in the molecules ofAir in the dim and changing light, for the structure of light,My journeying philosophic yielding little but distractionFrom life and from love; as I went about afraid for myselfAnd afraid for my life, […]

via “Ignorance is bliss”. — Sam Cottle