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

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...

I’ve learned to keep my faith in place, and sing of streets, warm hands cupped around coffee, fresh memories steaming to the surface,...

The world could use more fireflies. Not in a jar, but brightening that space – you know, the one between the space, the night we stare...

A ribcage After Athena Liu I'm nearing the second cairn, the first long gone [like] that first summer I learned how cruelty can live by...

Cluster bombs of ashes and metals and petals of you and me and him and her suffocate the air in the blizzards of fears swiveling our...

I gave my country a home in my chest. With my first cry and my father's signature, I stamped my mark into its soil, & clothed myself with...

Only those reluctant dullards who became wise at the expense of innocence can understand the inference that the sourness of mangrove...

Feather instead my wings. All the way home, over the streets, for here we are. In truth, none alone. Christ, O Truth, take my hand.

He stumbled much Always arose knowing Another enemy waited As the mother shed Her tears in solitude Seeing in him A heart as pure as

I will take you with me beyond dark doorways propped open with slivers of light. Along winding trails in a blackened forest

There is no justice that can be bought, no time that can be spared. Words spoken incoherently, scatter in the wind.

With open face you welcome the stranger looking for home. Built for a hound, you could be shelter for a multitude of field mice, a...

Where does love go when it dies? A stranger’s story can move like a riptide between the listener’s ears.

“True translation is transparent: it does not obscure the original, does not stand in its light, but rather allows pure language, as if...

—a villanelle to commencement speakers everywhere Tonight, fatigue’s grim flower unfurls, but Gandhi, gunned down, had this to say: “Be...

In solitude, I am at ease with myself, able to return to my spirit when it has been shaken bearing witness to the world. In solitude, I...

When trouble lies ahead And evil shows its face, I am urged to retribution, But fight a different war. I do not consider them enemies,...

“Walk cautiously”, he warns, daring her to miss a step. She moves with quietness and grace, carefully avoiding the eggshells. She’s...