#wild

#wild

Posted by HIBA on 9:00 AM in prose,

Thought of the word wild didn't bring in poetry. Rather I wanted to pull out my skin, rip it apart and just clench onto my veins. The green they portray on the outside would actually be bloody blessed red.What is it about a word that makes us write...

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#redemption

#redemption

Posted by HIBA on 11:24 AM in poems,

Evolved from the pricks of words,she left her coffin alive and profound.A dunk in the river of consciousness,A scrub by the branches of patience.Knelt in the mud of madnessSubmitted her being to the Divine.A ritual to live again, but not survive.A promise to be human, and not ignorant....

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