Medicine of the Real

What a kindness
she showers upon me,
not letting me skip any steps,
or leave not even one stone unturned.
What a mad trust she has
in this broken stumbling lover,
unwavering she ignores
my ramblings about limitations,
about my longing for a tiny bit of glitter.

You asked for freedom didn’t you, she whispers,
as she pours me another glass.
Drunk and bruised I crawl
to the table again and again.
Yes mother, more,
I give everything for just
one more sip of your exquisite
medicine of the real.


Catching My Breath

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luminous work woven with yellow threads of sunshine and impermanence


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"Whose voice calls me from the furthest reaches of the universe?"

#81 Ecology of Care

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Exploring the vital intersection of healing arts and indigeneity with Egyptian international interdisciplinary sound artist

My Orphan Country

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A poem by Palestinian refugee Nibal Khalid

ALDUNYA, The Goddess

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She, who speaks in climactic seed bursts of inspiration and steady sunrises the color of commitment.

Chasing Cicadas

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Amid the cacophony of a cicada emergence, Anisa George reflects on her choice to leave the Bahá’í faith and its promise of a new civilization


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Plenitude of sound / Infinitude of words / Transform within

From “Letters to Ukraine”

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But Ukraine is a country of the baroque

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