feeling like the ember, smoldering. ready to take to task all which stands before me to set ablaze my deepest yearnings to annihilate to integrate to slay, lovingly, mercilessly. shhh... surrendering to the flame. - Nisha Moodley From FREEDOM DEVOTIONAL: an invitation...

some say it's a fault. wielded well, it's my power that I can bend, stretch; cry and rage in a moment love, breathe, make space next without.skipping.a.beat. yes, it has been my most unfortunate mask the one who shows the wrong feeling the one who shapeshifts the one...

Poetry and Prose arm wrestle some mornings. Poetry is more refined, of course, and has a smug self-assurance that makes Prose uneasy, self-conscious. Poetry despises arm wrestling. Prose is ballsy. No mincing words or fussing with the flower arrangement. Prose just...