it has become harder to breathe on this continent that is not my own, when I try to speak, all that comes out is the sweet perfume of small white stars jasmine vines encapsulate my lungs— it is not my space to grow here
Tag: diaspora
Roots
as the façade slips away, shaking off the loose soil, you stand. scraping the dirt built up beneath unkempt nails, you were once comfortable here. memories fray like strings: tendrils now tiny threads thin and frail. carve a hole from sand. construct a dusty semblance of home. from sediment and rock, snakes replace the insects … Continue reading Roots
So Nadine Writes 