Awakened Voiced Blog

Category: Poetry

She imagined everyone could see them, the fingerprints they left behind. No special brushes or powder needed to reveal the damage that was done. She

when I turn to the bottle I am only drinking when I cry in my sleep I am running when I wail in the night

When I was seven, you blew a hole in my fucking soul. I was only seven. seven. A sick day. But not really. But really.

Crystal’s tough and street smart. Show no fear and never cry. That’s her mantra and it serves her well. She’s sixteen and has called this

One time, my sister asked why people do not swim when it rains— her point being they are already wet. As much as I tried,

My mother was making dinner She told me to go across the hall To get some sugar for the kool-aid I knocked on my neighbor’s

What do you see when you look at me? This broken, fragile vessel Of a used up fragrance That radiated Confidence from my pores Yet

and peaks its head around the hearth replacing a silver branch with a warm ember in the valley finally comes to rest the swirling water

That 50-year-old who “loved children” must be avoided, they said. He’d done it again and again but was never prosecuted, the elders said. But he

Her mother told the other mothers that my friend was a liar, so that whatever she said no one believed her. On sleepovers, her uncle

I have always been quiet, humble like a little mouse I spent my time at the farm, scurrying around scared shy shameful for what I

That summer in Brooklyn the streets were hot to the toes, asphalt like fire on our feet. Uncle Mike sent my Isabella to the corner