Three poems by M. Triea

Exiled

We do not feel at homein our own bodies, so wetravel to distant landswhere we find comfort.

Melanin's  Rebellion

An embodiment of confidence.She paints a masterpiece ofcopper saturated in thevibrations of African drums.She has removed the noose ofstereotypes from around herbronzed neck. Her mahoganyankles no longer sore fromthe shackles of prejudice.Unbothered by the woes ofthe past that echoes throughtime – she strides gracefully,beginning her journey tomelanin rebellion.

Untitled 

A body that never bloomed – “I wantyou to know that I was once a desert.”Now, listen closely to the river thatflows through my bones. Featured image CC0: Gerd Altmann (geralt)