As I sat at my desk, staring at the blank page before me, I felt discouraged. My dreams seemed distant, and I wondered if success was merely a myth for a village black girl like me.
Then, I recalled my mentor’s words from my student days: “Success is not a…
In the light of Christ, my spirit soars,
He is the Truth, the Way, the Life—my core.
In every word, His promise shines,
Validation flows through these heartbeats of mine.
With confidence, I rise and stand,
My voice, a flare, my purpose, a plan.
With will and passion, I forge my path,
In every endeavor, I…
When I was 19, I received a life-altering diagnosis. The doctors called it soft tissue sarcoma. The tumour spanned from my pelvis to my knee, entangling itself with every soft tissue it could reach, including the sciatic nerve. The treatment plan was aggressive and unrelenting: radiation, surgery, chemotherapy, followed…
While we still have time, let’s gather around.
Let us share laughter and jokes freely.
Let’s continue to cherish each other’s grace.
Let’s make the most of this precious time.
While we have time, let’s chase our dreams.
We are working towards our goals.
Also taking a breath to ourselves
To reflect and nourish our souls
While…
My name is Prisca, a young, dark African girl. I grew up in the southeastern part of Nigeria, West Africa. This is the story of how I moved from a fearful little girl trying to survive the societal impacts of her community to a confident young lady who is…
In tender years, life’s storms began to rage,
A matriarch’s loss, a heart’s turning page.
Four and a half, with my sister by my side,
Left in aunt’s care, our father went abroad to reside.
South Africa’s call, a new life to unfold,
Education’s promise, young dreams to mold.
But stepmother’s shade cast darkness on…
That night, I sat on my bedroom floor, the remnants of my day scattered around me—unfinished personal projects, unanswered messages, and a growing sense of isolation. The walls felt like they were closing in, a reminder of everything I had neglected. I had allowed doubt and fear to take…
I am the sting in your strong coffee,
I burn habitual liars’ tongues.
They don’t even feel good between the thighs anyway.
This poem is a melody of praise
for men who mend the ruins of childbirth
and storms,
for women who have experienced
the actual ruptures of soul and spirit.
These words are butter for your…