mama, what happened here?
I ask and ask, already, one might say, grown up Nastavi čitati “Higher | Sunflowers”
They’ll punish you like they did
Alice Fitzpatrick for crunching on
an apple in church, her cold gloat
reduced to half a calf’s lick: a curl
of baby hair tossed into crater lake.
Distilled aqua ersatz, tear-stained
glass in Mary’s corner. Nastavi čitati “A Triptych, Grace Herring”
Ramadan has just begun this year—a time of restraint and self-reflection, a time where I intentionally build moments to return to myself amid the everyday chaos of living. Four years ago I was living in Sarajevo; my last month in the city coincided with the holy month. As a Muslim woman who grew up in America, I had never experienced this month with people who knew or celebrated Ramadan. Nastavi čitati “How Sarajevo shaped me: forgiveness, poetry and the holy month”
Sarajevo meant a lot to me, means a lot to me still, my time there has shaped me, in fact. Everything I took for granted, every dream I was realizing; all painful laborious struggles. The warmth of every hearth I was drawn beside, every silently proffered plate of food; a realization of some eternal purities. Nastavi čitati “A Scottish Girl in Sarajevo”