First Place Winner of the Bright Before Us Writing Contest
for starters this is no tribute poem
the loves of my life have kept and keep me alive, stay living
consider this the proof
required, dancing through hard times furious forever
walking boldly in our truth so blinding
Read MoreSecond Place Winner of the Bright Before Us Writing Contest
You arrive at your home in Magodo and race up the stairs to hand your mother the medical report you received during your medical evaluation for NYSC Orientation Camp. It’s the summer after you graduate from Nile. The summer you receive the report confirming your PCOS. You had since told your mother about your irregular cycles, the hair strands that suddenly appeared on your chin area, the cramps that always almost take your life, and she’d shushed you and told you it’s nothing. Particularly, for the hair, she said, You should wax it off. It’s unladylike. You don’t want Wonu’s family seeing you like this during the introduction in December.
Read MoreThird Place Winner of the Bright Before Us Writing Contest
i wish i could go home
to call your land wholly my own
the sun, a brand on my skin
grief of what should have been paints my bones crimson i live restless on the threshold of an isle
never two feet in
Read MoreBright Before Us Writing Contest Honorable Mention
During my middle school years, my grandpa would leave my grandparents’ house before I woke up and arrive to pack my lunch just as I was waking up. When I would stand at the bathroom sink brushing my teeth, I’d hear the soft jingle of his keys from our porch and the creak of the door as he let himself in.
Read MoreBright Before Us Writing Contest Honorable Mention
“It’s your rat—” the exterminator gargled, “you deal with it!”
He shambled out the front door, each step cracking and slowing more than the last. Also his face was smashed flat into a circle—and this wasn’t even the first exterminator to get horrifically mangled. Three weeks ago, an exterminator left covered in mouse traps. The week after, another wobbled out with their spine bouncing like an accordion. And last week, the poor soul ended up as a pair of eyes on a pile of ash.
Read MoreBright Before Us Writing Contest Honorable Mention
Most people don’t start a personal essay by sharing that the past week has been incredibly emotional—crying at a party, at a conference, at home, but I am doing so— with you, in this piece, and in this regard, I thank these very United States, which I sometimes feel so scared of.
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