Thy Name
cries echo into the void....
Figures in the moonlight dance upon thy windowsill.
Chants of thy soldiers yearn to be heard.
Different stories, same ending, shattered by thy gun
Battles won by none
All singing the same song.
Vessels of our most precious souls used as collateral.
Blood of thy children seeps into the soil.
In honor of thy name
All in honor of thy name
Cries echo into the void.
In honor of thy name
All in honor of thy name
I dare question the existence of the man worth killing for…..
About the Creator
Maima Kiazolu
Writer•Digital Artist
Join me as I embrace the gift I was born with.
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More stories from Maima Kiazolu and writers in Poets and other communities.
Stories with no faces
It was just a random day, nothing too pressing on my agenda, when I got a notification on Messenger. Curious, I checked my phone. It was a picture sent by my cousin—a photo of my paternal grandfather. I was honestly shocked. How had I never realized I had no idea what my grandfather looked like? Hell, I didn't know him at all. Someone so crucial to my existence was a stranger. But that's a story for another day.
By Maima Kiazolu6 months ago in Writers
Center Stage with Gina C.
*** I'm keen to republish the interviews I did for my series with Vocal creators. It's been a few years and I thought it might be nice to revisit these wonderful conversations. I'll be releasing them one at a time for a few weeks/months.
By Heather Hubler5 days ago in Interview
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