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Archive of the posts written by author : zaji.

the living

There are days like today when the living ain’t easy. 
I sit in the back of the store—breakroom slash 
stockroom—waiting for things I cannot name. 

Boxes stacked to the ceiling containing gadgets to 
keep us entertained. Fluorescent lights hum. 
The clock ticks away…

in elysium

Your whispers reach me across time. They find me standing on the edge of awakening. My dreams leave, then your dreams ask to enter the space of love that eases our pain. We go together, warriors of love, into the fields of Elysium.…

feeling jolly, maybe

It snowed last night. This morning the sky was clear and the snow bright. While I do feel a sense of jolly when I look at the blanket of white, I continue to wish that snow weren’t so cold. I know, to achieve…

i built a story

I built a story that was tall and wide, stretching across miles of land like the Great Wall of China. I did not use brick or stone or plastic or metal or wood. I used the purple haze of stardust, sprinkled on sea…

hate speech vs my mighty voice

Mighty Voices Rise I don’t give two damns about “hate speech” against me, a brown woman. Not two. I have a mighty voice and know how to defend myself against words meant to cut my soul. What I care a lot about is…

unfurl

i am unfurled unwrapped by life’s hardships, joys and mysteries. without understanding why, i have lived without a name.   Unfurl

mortal words

i’ve decided that i don’t want to write, not with my hands anyway. i want to think words onto paper and screens and leaves and stones and skies. i want words to fall onto the sand and clay soil, carved into ice and…

i am the stream…

i am the stream… of consciousness. it is 2:38pm, monday, the In The Beginning day of the week august 14. twenty seventeen, whatever that means it is the day when i want to forget the days and seconds and step into infinity, the…

save words

i will save words for you. bottled and pickled words for you. then feed you synonyms of me, so you will always remember my taste. i will flavor your life until all your tongue remembers is what it is was like to come…to…

satchel of poems

I had a satchel filled with poems that I tossed into the sea. I wrote them on tiny circles and squares and rectangles woven with jute, some in permanent gold ink, others lovingly stitched on over the course of many sunrises and sunsets.…

ink spill

I spilled ink across the blank pages of my notebook. It was then that I decided to write stories with my fingers.

the words spill

The words spill from my pen, blood red, no longer wanting to be ink, but to be life. The words follow me into my dreams. There, I am sky bound. Landing is a matter of chance.

freedom

We all seek freedom in one way or another. But in the end, we live in an age where none of us know what true freedom feels like. We’ve never lived it beyond our mind and flowering imagination. Although I don’t know what…

i hide

i hide inside myself, in the dark corners of memory, in the light of a thousand what-could-have-beens.

existence remembered

The words leave, drifting atop my misconceptions. I am looking backwards. Why did we come here? Was it only to see if being human was a strange fad, something new for our soul to do? Or was it something real and lasting and…

parallel universe

In the space of memory resides the fence we stand atop, teetering on the edge between hard ground and water. In that space we remember the moments that embrace us before we have a chance to embrace them. They catch us unaware and…

your lies

Your lies won’t save you from death. You will die anyway. Death is the great truth teller. When it comes, all you will know in that moment is the truth; which is, you will soon be gone, into the wind, into oblivion, into…

little expectations

Writing Prompt: Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt. Expectation. I am sometimes filled to overflowing with a cauldron of expectations. Ideas mixed in with opinions and beliefs that don’t belong to me or the soup overwhelm every aspect of…

the thinning web

The silken network of threads thin inside me; those webs that stick to everything that I am. They thin, inch by inch, but strengthen, holding on to heart and lung and liver and spleen. They hang on to sinew; but muscles and bones…

split apart

i am split apart, opened wide like the Nile and equally as filled with memories of life and death and history flowing through ancient cities. i am the woman in the dunes, waiting. always waiting for the sand to give birth to life…

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