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

—it’s the pain of those unmet needs that exposes your claws and bares your teeth. Every fallen feather is a prayer—God, save this world.

Mama, do not weep for the flower that withered in the cold, for I have bloomed anew

There has been harm in my story, and as in all good stories, an enemy lurking.  Sometimes we say, “I would not wish this on my worst enemy,”

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.

The forest never sleeps and also cries for redemption, the soul of the Amazon, the trees of life-giving air.

“If there is no God, what is left?” he interrogated himself.  He stood motionless in a warm, dry wind, felt himself falling into an eternity

shallow breathing - high piercing sirens screech in the streets - crouching shoulders - whispers - fences keeping enemies of the state in -

The clouds above you form as the moon rises, you try to give them a sense of purpose, you know that the messenger with the bad news won’t...

My home in Syria, loud bangs I hear, my hands on my ears, mama say bombs fall from the sky, she grab me down the stairs like she is the wind

And in the undisturbed brick and limestone, everything quietly waiting for the nocturnal, the gutters to run clear,

Today a smoky haze hangs over the trees drapes the fields Wildfires from Canada dropping down on the wind and I think again of Maui...

I tell myself that compassion is my calling, and God will gather my fallen stories. He has given me a mother and friends who care about...

Luis had been a patient of mine for less than a year.  He’d been referred to me by his primary care physician on the south side of San...

I grew up thinking My suburban life Filled with liberal minds And high-minded rhetoric Had taught me all I needed to know But you cannot...

if I started, “Once upon a time, not so long ago, lived a man with a habit of regretting his mistakes and making more in the process,”...

they ask me if i still think of death, i say i always have a shadow, like shafts of rain falling in sunlight. i don’t need monsters and...

we are asleep inside ourselves. we know you when the dawn sneaks in on a sleeping forest and catches her unawares; we struggle to find...

I’m not ungrateful to the days the sun was darker than the gathering of a thousand nights, and the nights the moon was as timid as a...

"Listen to me. There will be a day when the world will need you most — be alive on that day." - Michael Wasson. I don’t disagree that...

cut from events and ensuing wounds, body helpless, intently attuned. fragile afflictions, tender and bruised, crouch and hide, any...