- Letter from the Other Side of Silence — Stephanie L. Harper
- Because The Deacon Couldn’t Sleep — Dina Friedman
- One Day At A Time– Kavita Ratna
- YOU ARE– Mahvash Mohtadullah
- Gypsy Woman– George Bakola
- For Angie– Rachel Ikins
- Rise And Fall– Lynn White
- Canary’s Plea– Agaigbe Uhembansha
- The Lost Pages– Sabreen Ahmed
- VOICES: Three Haikus by Daiypayan Nair
- Lipstick– Kalpana Singh Chitnis
- She Rides The Bus– Marianne Tefft
- There Is A Desire– Trijita Mukherjee
- My Inner Voice– Shailja Sharma
Canary’s Plea— Agaigbe Uhembansha
The cage dangled, boughs swayed.
The birder hung the cage and stood under
Whistling in the breeze,
The shade sunrays pushed off the banyan tree.
Gaily, the little friend jumped into the cage,
Grain and can of water inveigled it.
Then, the open top closed.
The ensnared picked a few grains in the feeder.
Sold freedom for a morsel of bread like Esau,
Hunger or freedom, which is healthier?
Freedom without surplus is slavery.
What use is food when there is no liberty?
Flying early morning gives a spring’s view
Of how dew overloaded blades overnight.
Sitting on a dry branch, sorting wet wings
Offers the same vision.
Sitting in a cozy balcony feels different,
It wipes out sonorous songs off the memory.
No creativity, no excitement.
Miserable fete all the way; eat and drink.
Learning to sit in the cage when there’s
No buttocks. Sitting one side, defecating
On the other.
Sitting down to unlearn how to fly over hills,
Forests and valleys,
To unlearn how to mate, build nests; lay eggs,
To unlearn how to procreate, live.
Already trained to reap where not planted,
To taste crops in the field to announce harvest.
Now in cage.
Who’ll compete with farmers over ripe grains?
No one to call for rain and dew in spring.
No one to remind the sky to shut during harvest.
Harmattan and sunshine shall forget themselves in
The horizon and harvest will be a mess.
Remind the birder I haven’t hatched my eggs.
Let him open the cage.
He didn’t know the meaning of bondage,
If he wants to know, let him sit in the cage.
I don’t do anything for him apart from songs,
The same songs I’ll sing in the forest.
Why cage me when I can sing better sitting
On a dry branch,
My feathers trembling in the breeze,
When I can sprint to farmers’ grain myself,
When I can scuttle to the river myself.
Let him free me to fix my nest,
And I’ll return in the evening to sing on the
Branches behind his window or elsewhere.
All he needs to do is to sit quietly,
And he’ll hear my voice in the orchard.
Agaigbe Uhembansha is a Nigerian writer. He holds a master’s degree from Nasarawa State University, Keffi, and currently works at The NAOWA College Abuja as the Vice Principal Academics. His short story, ‘The Village Pond’, won second prize in The Green We Left Behind Creative Nonfiction Writing Contest. ‘The Storm Battle’ got Honourable Mention in Globe Soup Challenge 8#. His works appear in Arts Lounge Magazine, Mocking Owl, and elsewhere.
Parcham Online 
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