She had never known love—

not in the way the poets told it.

Love was a wide, distant land,

set beyond a vast and winding river.

And everything she tried

was never enough to cross.

He was a little wooden bridge

suspended between shores.

His words—

a quiet symphony,

gentle as silence.

He was unlike any man

she had earned through persistence.

Oh, she knew he didn’t exist.

Not really.

But still—

s...

Red is my favourite colour, I say

The kind of lie that comes bare faced and white

Like the one T-shirt my husband and I argued over the one time

Doesn’t hurt anyone

I do not have a favourite colour, I say

Some truths are just so

Not bitter or painful or hard to say

I like black, I say

Because for the longest time I was taught that black wasn’t it

The colour of your skin determined

what acti...

The world did not end that day, it ended in parts, gradually, surely, definitely.

It ended.

We watched it end.

A sharp cold wind bit at the tips of my naked fingers, a norm for all Nambasa mornings. My eyes were locked ahead of me, past a sea of heads and straight to the graffiti covered wall about a kilometer away from where I stood. The big makeshift crusade table beneath my leather boots th...