What you have is a loud in my face kind of life that can cut, slice my flesh open
I still walk, upright, one foot at a time, a trail of burgundy behind me—the only evidence of the hurt
It is easy to remain on this lower rung, while you tower above me, seemingly carrying all that you want and all that I should want
I still stand, upright, feet grounded, the dust on my hair the only evidence of inadequacy.
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.
Illustration by Deema Alawa Has Set Me Free by Susan Chung Un – prefix Become – verb ing – suffix When did you find out
Illustration by Wendy Nogales Scream is the Heart’s Pound Prolonged by Rosa Parhizkar The sound of rockets hit my ears at a rooftop dinner table.
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,