I want to scream until my voice blisters
Around the hot cinders of the words I spit
I burn out next to the Sun and Sister
Where my Mother and Father lit the ends of my wick
I am smuggled between cigarette-smeared lungs
Sucked in and set free by salt-calloused lips
I hold a feverish song on my foreign tongue
A first-generation solar eclipse
I am traded from country to country
Until I’m dusted by the ashes of the warm earth
My branch snipped away from the family tree
And placed gently onto the phoenix’s hearth
I sprint across the plains like the sunset’s final rays
My nostrils filled with sweat and smoke
I drift between the time-zone days
And find sweet slumber in the heatstroke
Nikola Sojka is a wanderer. Her greatest wish is to add her ghost to the spirits that haunt old libraries and moss-draped forests. She employs her multicultural heritage and experiences to infuse her writing with a distinctive, introspective perspective. She hopes that her presence is felt in her poems and that it provides a unique and comforting companion to her readers. In the end, her aim is to provide a home to other lost souls in the way that other authors have crafted a safe space for her.
