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- Editorial
- ESSAY: 'Malta’s Jonah Complex' by Antoine Cassar
- ESSAY: Incongruity and Scale by Ivan Callus
- ESSAY: Writing on the Edge by Raphael Vella
- ESSAY: Mute Stage by Simone Spiteri
- ESSAY: On approaching a language from outside its crèche by Walid Nabhan
- PROSE: Monologue of the gravedigger by Clare Azzopardi
- PROSE: Four days by Immanuel Mifsud
- PROSE: I want to call out to Samirah by Pierre J. Mejlak
- PROSE: Gerita by Trevor Żahra
- PROSE: Everything is not by Walid Nabhan
- POETRY: Mario Azzopardi
- POETRY: Norbert Bugeja
- POETRY: Antoine Cassar
- POETRY: Joe Friggieri
- POETRY: Simone Galea
- POETRY: Adrian Grima
- POETRY: Maria Grech Ganado
- POETRY: Simone Inguanez
- POETRY: Nadia Mifsud
- POETRY: Albert Marshall
POETRY: Nadia Mifsud
Storm
till
yesterday
you
were still calm
bobbing
on the shoreline of my breasts
wind
at your stern
your
eyes a sky of blue
today
your
face
is hazy
your
choppy mouth slaps
your
words are charged with thunder
and
my heart flaps
as
my body opens, a crack, a creek
till
the gales leave your cheeks
and
you can sail again
exil/asile
nailed to the screen
fathomless eyes, black
cubbyholes
graves
for postcards
of my land
shame
I remember catechism classes
aunt Tonina
beady eyes
thumping hands
threatening Hell
J’accuse ...
I remember Good Friday
heavy chains
white hoods
barefoot women
lamenting their Redeemer
J’accuse
I remember a people
proud in faith
J’accuse
stop it, she said,
you don’t know what you’re saying
we’re small
there isn’t room ...
... stop it, you left!
that’s the whole point, I left
as thousands did before me
like your brother
your sister
and your uncle
it could have been me
it could have been them
my daughter too’s an outsider, ma
This is Death that comes for you
grills you, fries you, oh oh oh!!! :
look it’s coming, look it’s coming
who was it gave you that blow ?*
"Je n'ai qu'une passion, celle de la lumière, au nom de l'humanité qui a tant souffert et qui a droit au bonheur. Ma protestation enflammée n'est que le cri de mon âme."- Emile Zola