asé |
Issue 9
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ancestors thrum inside my throat:
(sing it out sing that pain up out of you speak your peace with fervor let it all spill out over your tongue and pass it through your teeth ROAR) ancestors create a cradle for my heart: (you were lost now you are found you may feel your feelings here you are dark like magic and as full as the ocean and you need not PERMISSION) ancestors nourish my thoughts with mindful balm: (child, o child, do not get weary continue do not let the innards of your mind play its tricks on you do not RUMINATE yourself into the bloodiness of the pit) ancestors take they hands up at me when I am overworking: (get yo ass somewhere and siddan put down their iron you have been striking while hot for it is scalding the meat of your palms - run your hands under the water and rest. rest. rest. rest. REST.) |
RIEL FUQUA won 1st Place of the Poetry Writing Contest. They are a creative artist of many trades, each of them centering around the communicative art of storytelling. Much of Riel’s work focuses on the mosaic of experiences they have had as a Black, queer person residing in the deep south, including navigating interpersonal relationships, sentiments both big and small, childhood memories, the nostalgia for a reality before COVID-19, and the zest of Black, non-binary joy.
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