Story Of An Artist

In a dark empty room, Hephaestus sculpted his last work , the deformed shape of his alter ego, that he calledHuman. Long ago was an artist called Hephaestus who spread his art throughout the lands, made beauty from nothingness and enchanted the eyes with visions he created. For ages, Hephaestus had an invincible power for it was said he defeated the most talented. Others feared him, envied him and defied him but no one could detest his art; it was pure masterpiece. In his time, artistry flourish

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A class on disguised sadism 

Untitled was my nameYou named me fool. I sat across the roomAnd you haunted me like a predator I, a prey, dragged into my doom On the corridors, we crossedYou passed me by just to point my faultsAnd teach me to work hard, as if I, already, did notI gazed too long perhaps Afraid of being lastAnd you say my fate is in my handsBut I blame it all on youThe future you say is cruelAnd on the battlefield, I bid my farewell Your bombs eclipsed my skyAnd turned my day into nightMy stars into ashAnd my d

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People with mental disabilities cannot be forgotten

Mental disability is a condition that limits a person’s intellectual capacity, resulting directly or indirectly from injury to the brain or from abnormal neurological development. In Africa, people with mental and psycho social disabilities are among the most marginalized groups. Most families are not prepared to cope with learning their loved one has a mental disability. The discussions on mental disability are still insignificant and taboo in most communities. In years gone, there is still poo

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The Shift 

A few weeks ago, Kenyans woke up to news of the death of President Moi who ruled the country for close to three decades. It was clear that the country’s opinion was divided : Most people in my generation thought of him simply as  a dictator , my parents’ generation on the other hand perceived his leadership with a bit more reverence.  Despite all these, the controversy surrounding his leadership was irrefutable: From the corruption perpetrated by his puppets, the embezzlement of millions of dol

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The smell of flowers before they’re picked up 

“I should make myself a good cup of jasmine tea and maybe grab a piece of fresh cake”“That would help me ruminate” “Might be better if I start working on the article then I can give  myself a break for a muffin”“Okay, so I need to start off with the ideas,“Maybe a blueberry muffin with salted honey crumble”“That’s a good one. Yes.”“Okay,”“Where do I begin, maybe I should just change the topic”“And no I’ll just perforate my very own experience with plants and flowers.”“Do you guys ever wonder if

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The Awakening 

That summer evening, the auditorium was packed with parents eager to listen to what the school had planned for the next academic year. Even though the air conditioners were on full blast, I could still feel that August, Louisiana humidity engulfing my body. The principal had just given a heartfelt speech about how the school was making impressive strides towards being more culturally diverse, and how it was hosting a record ten exchange students that year. Just when we thought she was done, she

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Can you hear my cry?

I have been crying for so long. Please wake up from the stupor of greed, my children, and see what you are doing. Your atomic bombs have laid waste to billions of precious lives, even the most fragile life forms and micro-organisms, across vast swathes of silent desert and open ocean. You have cut down and set fire to my flesh and poured toxins all over my body.You have sliced me out to search for fossil fuels, gold and bauxite. Your Industrial Revolution saw the large-scale use of fossil fuels

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“So you think you can dance”

I stepped on my left foot backward in a charming motion, sliding across the slippery floor. I slid my left foot onward, chasing my retreating other foot with mine, like a fox on the hunt. I stood still, toe to toe, and I pulled my hips in closer. Threatening the audience with my own gaze, I looked to the left, and then to the right. And again, turning my head opposite. To the right, then to the left. Tumbling forward, my bits tautened on my spines as my right foot came frontward again, surprisi

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She Cut Her Braids in Mo(u)rning

Over the bubbling steam of bitter, hotChai on the stove,I listen attentivelyto Grandma teachingMe How to braid:Portion the pulsing veins of hair between your fingers.Turn them over with the delicacy used to turn pagesBut with a tighter pull,And let yourMovements over, under, acrossGuide the pattern of in and out. Let the coarse threads slip Between your fingers--But not too much, so you can tie it off At its feathery end.Rain hits the window panes.At such a young age,Braids were cut--I wanted th

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On the Margins of Identity

Credits: Ricardo EsquivelI can still hear the chanting coming from the TV: “Build the wall, build the wall!”. With the election of the 45th president of the United States, my community has been denigrated on the political stage. I am the Mexican of his United States-- an invasive species. My mother tongue is a threatening weapon and my vibrant culture poses a threat to the American Dream. My entire being is policed by ignorance. Leading up to the election, the idea of prejudice wasn’t so forward

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