The Refugee by Julie Christine Johnson
“The Refugee” by Julie Christine Johnson 1 used lifejacket 1 passport 1 sunhat Toothbrush Comb Seasickness tablets 200 Euros 200 Turkish liras Three multi-packets of cigarettes With this, and the clothing he wears, he leaves a broken city whose name meant copper in a language time has long since melted down and reshaped. The man’s name, the one thing he carries that no one can steal, is Radwan. ~ 1 eiderdown...
Raqqa, Syria to Crete by Susan Shaw Sailer
“Raqqa, Syria to Crete” by Susan Shaw Sailer Doah’s 19, Syrian, working in Egypt all human beings are born free her own town bombed out and equal in dignity and rights Egypt doesn’t want her they are endowed tries to kidnap and send her back with reason and conscience Decides to go to Europe and should act toward one another pays $2000 for a spot on a fishing boat meant for...
Making Waves in 1798 by Tammi Truax
“Making Waves in 1798” by Tammi Truax “I can tell when Gaja smell water. Can read it in the way she move. This is way a’fore any water’s in sight. She get excited. It’s the only time that she take to walking at a fast clip. Mister like her to go fast.” Solomon whispered as if Mister Owen was within earshot. “He think we travel too slow. Makes more money if we git places faster. But we like the slow walk.” He...
You Are Migrant by Katherine DiBella Seluja
“You Are Migrant” by Katherine DiBella Seluja which is to say you are standing in a line a very long line you are grasping the fist of a child you do not know you will not lose this child you don’t know where this line will lead you but you know well what it took you from you are from Syria, Tunisia, Mexico, Ukraine a sack holds your belongings in other words please God, praise Allah enough to barter for your...
Diaspora by Faith Holsaert
“Diaspora” by Faith Holsaert Our inheritance in the Diaspora is to live in this inexplicable space–Dionne Brand if there was a curtain we didn’t notice if there was something other than raspberries among dusty leaves we didn’t see we saw how the path wound up from the creek we knew we had to carry we knew the old man in the next town we...
Does the sea remember everything? I wonder.
Does she absorb everything? Does she keep it safe?
Virginia Woolf
. . .
The Q: Can you fathom the spectacle that would be created if we moved together, arms outstretched, close enough to touch?
The Q: What echoes through you that longs to take form—a poem, an image, a mark, a whisper of becoming?
Recent From Waves
-
fathoms Feb 28, 2026 -
-
-
-
