Sharp earthquakes tilt us together into a pile of debris and I should be able to see it as hope and possibility and evolution, but the metallic taste on my tongue lingers, reminding me of all the tiny, teeny pieces of bricks that I’ve already cemented together.
Whose bricks are these on the bridge I’ve been building for two decades? Did they come from a trendy hashtag or my heart?
Sonia Chintha is an Indian American writer who lives in the Washington DC area. She blogs, writes poetry, and fiction. She is also an English teacher who believes that our experiences teach us more than any test. She is the founder and co-editor of Good Little Girls.
Today I greeted an old friend and it made miss, long for the past—all those too hot summers and pool side reads, the softer winters
As my year off, sabbatical, leave of absence, whatever you want to call it comes to an end, it’s hard not to look back and
Today I started the hunt again same one I’ve done over and over for fourteen years. I put on the camo, wiped clean the rifle,