Valiant Scribe
A literary hub giving voice to the voiceless by retelling the human experience

Until then, I long for my father to find rest, to fly away on the wings of a dove,* which is perhaps masquerading as a crow...

They killed a man whose words still echo forgiveness in the spaces under the Walnut Street Bridge, even the unspoken ones they know not...

I wanted to leave this earth, join you and your son. You wanted nothing of it. Sent angels to rip up my passport, keep me in the country.

An adjective people throw around when feeling energetic or unfocused. A joke for most is a reality for me.