Tag: Prose

• waking up to myself

  I am here waking up to myself. It is as if I came from a long slumber, where who I was, who I became, was predetermined by the circumstances of…

  

• the obscure hall and its hollow walls

  I am wandering around the obscure walls of the sunken place searching its oblique halls and I can’t see past the darkness and the emptiness. there is only hollowness. I…

  

• -dear diary

  all I used to have were unfinished thoughts dear diary… fragmented parts of myself, that stopped writing at the fear of being uncovered. having your privacy violated, particularly when it…

  

• -breaking apart

  sometimes, it feels as though I’m melting spreading into lather-like substance losing firmness consistency breaking apart, slowly- irrevocably a withered fern losing its light other times, melting is like healing…

  

• the sweet solace of the moments we give to our selves

  there are few things sweeter than the moments we give to our selves. the solace of meditative silence deeper breaths longer baths and slowly slowly preparing meals for yourself painting…

  

• 1 Year Later: A Happy Birthday To Me

  31 May 2018 The Healing It’s The Afroist’s birthday today, and I am all sorts of emotional having just reread the first post I wrote one year ago. Reading it,…

  

• -peace studies

  I am a scholar of peace. I have written  the essays on conflict, peace, and security. I have defined peace debated it, and deconstructed it many times. so arguably, I…

  

• A Lament of the Growing Futility of our Rage

  our anger has no ability to destabilise they have grown accustomed to our anger.   our anger is their profit deliberately deliberately they anger us the more we scream cry…

• -the unsent letter

  I hate when you say you love me or miss me I gave up on you after the countless times you pushed away my outstretched hands I cried away my…

  

• wishing for stories of black fairies

  a cinematic wish-list