marco

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By: H.N.H

Without a body/ he looked like god/ he took no throne in the temples of men/He was not the god of incense and hymns/Not the god clothed in gold/He was the god of small boys/ Of aching backs/ And abandoned prayers

By: Akrabi

We start off as clouds, then bit by bit, we morph into these tiny droplets which plunge into the soil. Following this, we morph again into these punnets filled with greenery. My mum says my belief in and desire for this will be my undoing. My best friend asked if my inability to write (recently) felt like I was floating. Tightness was my response. To float is to meditate. The lotus position is floating. Lacking the ability to cut my heart open and use the substance to knit these lines together is far from floating.

By: Nicole Asiimwe

Me (a new flower)/Wonders how the bouquet loves so violently, delicate at once/ Like sitting tenderly in the grass at home/Like passion fruit juice and tilapia/ Saccharine like home

By: Alvin Nganga

I could manage the rare battle but with each struggle it became clear/ that he would not be denied the war

By: Ainembabazi Lynn Mugisha

Everything now moves; fast and hard/So/Remove my spine; replace it with straw/That way, I can move with the times/not feel stuck.

By: Samaya Miller

"Babylon, as imagined by Rastafari resistance, is the technocratic face of empire dressed in developmental garb; it is the organising principle of the western world—a system designed to subjugate Black people (Owens, 1976). As Bob Marley sang, “Babylon is the vampire, […] sickin in the blood of the sufferers, building church and university. Deceiving the people continually.” In these classrooms, Babylon lives in the violence of pedagogy that demands silence, stillness, and unquestioned repetition."

By: Kenga

By: Marco Tiyo Adriko

By: Samaya Miller