When You Get the Rejection Letter

Rejections, after Lauren Elma Frament

 

In a year of taking a break from submitting, I almost forgot how tedious sending your work to publications can be. You put blood, sweat and tears in revising your work to death before sending it out, and boom! You get the big “no”.

Sending my pieces to lit. journals had come in small blessings, usually unexpected. There were times my pieces fitted the theme of the journal and I got the boot. There were times I would cry and question if I should write at all, some I didn’t care.

Which is to say, you shouldn’t question whether you’re a good writer or not, there’s plenty of journals worldwide. It’s one of the scenarios where you have to push yourself. It’s not going to be easy–it’s really frustrating to be honest, but it’s part of the journey being a writer.

 

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When You Get the Rejection Letter

She Liked The Way They Died

She watches the sky

a horrific shade of black

air heavy with mortal

screams.

Her tail glitters ever shade of blue

webbed claws sharp as razors

emerged from the sea

assembling herself onto an ice floe

gazing at the dying subjects,

sinking to the depths of the ocean.

The mermaid snapped out of her trance,

turning to see a youthful maiden with hair like that of the sun;

who drifted far from her kin.

With amusement, the mermaid watched

as the bright haired child struggled to stay afloat

her pleading eyes sinking below.

— Day Sibley, She Liked The Way They Died 


written and revised since 2011

She Liked The Way They Died

A Woman’s Worth

The greatest sin the world forbids a woman to do, is love herself.

See, she is the wife before she is an  individual. The mother  who

cares for herself last. Someone’s sister or aunt. She never belongs

to herself. God forbid she does.

— Day Sibley, A Woman’s Worth

A Woman’s Worth

Straight Outta College: Being Black Without A Degree

I find myself wondering, Why am I not in school right now? I’m not in college because I can’t afford it. I haven’t been able to pay off what I owe to my first university, in addition to student loans that found me so quickly after they discovered I wasn’t enrolled.
— Kiki Nicole

Straight Outta College: Being Black Without A Degree

What the Dead Know By Heart

lately, when asked how are you, i
respond with a name no longer living

Rekia, Jamar, Sandra

i am alive by luck at this point. i wonder
often: if the gun that will unmake me
is yet made, what white birth

will bury me, how many bullets, like a
flock of blue jays, will come carry my black
to its final bed, which photo will be used

to water down my blood. today i did
not die and there is no god or law to
thank. the bullet missed my head

and landed in another. today, i passed
a mirror and did not see a body, instead
a suggestion, a debate, a blank

post-it note there looking back. i
haven’t enough room to both rage and
weep. i go to cry and each tear turns

to steam. I say I matter and a ghost
white hand appears over my mouth.

— Dante Collins, What the Dead Know By Heart

What the Dead Know By Heart

Bless the Mic

It takes a bold character
to bare its soul on the mic

I only have these words
when you get the chance,

say something with love
—mean it!

Do not do it for the applause
you have an important cause

do it—you have something to say
when the world tried to hush you.

Most importantly,
say it with love.

Always with love.

Bless the Mic