The first language I learnedwas not Englishwas not Spanish, or French, or RussianNo, the language that built my bones was made of voices louder than mineof doors slamming shut, locking me in(or them out)of tears that meant nothingof adrenaline and… Continue reading

You’re a child, the first time it happens. The how isn’t really important, but the result… well, dying tends to leave an impression. You wake up to the sky, barely moments later, body fixed and clothes destroyed. You don’t tell… Continue reading

(A poem I wrote about 11 years ago. It’s nice to share some of my creative writings.) You’re a child when it happens. When that event changes your entire life, your entire being. You’re a child, and no one  is… Continue reading