The Things I’ve Lost

The Things I’ve Lost By: Ignacio Benito Ash-black and grey pencil case abandoned somewhere in the corner of ZIS’s third-grade classroom in the blue metal cubbies on my last day of school after an hour worth of tears, left to rot. A chestnut-brown child’s book on the basics of German somewhere in the third room…

Kind Hands

A Kind Hand By: Ignacio Benito      Her shoulder-long black hair and brown eyes melted with her almond skin, only for her vividly colored top layered with flowers, molas, and creative designs coming from the farthest reaches of the local culture to burst into a deluge of colors. A sharp, vigorous voice resounds across…

The Things I Carry

The Things I Carry By: Ignacio Benito   Torn and worn jacket Unmovable mittens Tucked away hood The love of my grandmother My father’s hope and care   With me I always carried a winter jacket, warm and thick it kept the biting winds at bay. Tattered by the years, rain, snow, and a lack…

She Left Something Behind

  (Audio Part 1)  (Audio Part 2)   “El diablo no sabe por diablo pero por viejo.” “The devil is not wise because he’s the devil, it’s because he’s old.” She Left Something Behind   Vico who could not stand the heat has left me. She took her clothes, pens and pencils, her priceless books…

Run To Belong

(Audio) “No one is invisible.” Run To Belong   It was then that he spoke those words that I finally knew that I would belong to something for years to come. Mr. Reeves, a short man with a buzz cut like that of drill sergeant that you see on boot-camp training videos. Always wore neatly…