by Marilene Phipps | Apr 28, 2017 | Prose
Saint Bernadette at Night from The Company of Heaven: Stories from Haiti My first recollections of story books come with the scents, sounds, and textures of Caribbean nights and with images of a little girl curled in bed over white sheets covering a small cotton...
by Marilene Phipps | Apr 28, 2017 | Poetry
The Fall of Sanctuaries I was a child who gazed at the sky. Each time we drove past the Church of the Sacred Heart of Jesus in Port-au-Prince, my eyes met with Christ. I never missed the chance, as we passed the church, to look up, contemplate the immense Christ who...
by Marilene Phipps | Apr 28, 2017 | Poetry
Migrant To be a poet is to hurt—I came, I saw, I hurt. We stand, we vouch, we lie— the truth we want is not— tis a dream we have of life we knew in a world we lost. The cross we bear, we brought— America was brave and bold and here for us who ventured forth with ills...
by Marilene Phipps | Apr 28, 2017 | Poetry
Sanctuary I name this Sanctuary. Enter. I want you to bare your feet— you must feel the difference in touch. A Kilim rug stretches far ahead, offered for your every step, its hard fibers impervious to what weighs, acting as emissary from the ancient grievances of...
by Marilene Phipps | Apr 28, 2017 | Poetry
An Estuary Our friends go like bark from a sycamore. They fall off the big tree to be swept with the season. Too much of their absence takes mercy out of the heart— we collect the silence left by a face that tossed its teeth, a one-eyed inquisitor, a faded rose sunk...
