Indelible line drawn with precision

From a shrouded mind along her spine

Drenching broken heart fragments

Deep into the ink pot of existence

Then painting strength into vertebrate

As a backbone emerges from the ashes


Sabrina Escorcio


Featured post

What It Means to Be A Warrior Voice Of Survival’- Nathan McCool

It is through adversity that we flourish; as poets our words represent the internal dialog of a survivors heart, giving a voice to silent thoughts. Stumbling blocks tossed onto the path of our lives fuel poetic inspiration, and serve as stepping stones to reach our future. Messy, raw, unearthed emotion in an artistic form, turning personal tragedy into treasure.


Sabrina Escorcio

Blood Into Ink

Meet a Warrior Nathan

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look to the edge of light
where our future reality hides
under an illuminating shadow of hope
it is within this place, I long to reside
will you come, follow me

this path, laden with humble promises
among stones like scattered seeds
just left of centre from perfection
at the fringe from where I will bleed
into existence, our imperfect universe

delve into this subconscious expanse
traverse the etched, predestined lines
breathe life over my rolling plains
at this, hundredth meridian you will find
a reverie, to lull your every doubt

here, we let fear dissolve into dusk
suspend dreams to embellish night
we sleep beneath the blanket of stars
with our future in plain sight

©Sabrina Escorcio
February 2017

Photo Credit to Eric Hahn

This Too Shall Pass


on these, my worst days
when scarlet blood memories
dry thick over wax mesh minutes
oxidized words once shouted
now whisper healing remedies

furtive broken flesh tilled like soil
rebirth coagulating thoughts
that stick mercilessly to old wounds
soft flesh blooms through death

this, self inflicted treatment
becomes consolation, prized
as I attempt redemption
tearing off bandages too quickly
to avoid more pain

this too shall pass
this too shall pass

Sabrina Escorcio
August 31st 2017

Photo Credit to Christine Otero

Silhouette- Sabrina Escorcio

Featured Image -- 247

Whisper and the Roar

She came into the earth
between pillars of freedom
and oppression.
Her incompatible hosts,
were stubborn bones
softened only by fate.

Claiming her burden
head first amidst thighs
damp with promise,
and blush stained bed sheets
that swaddled an imperfect future.
Mother, delivering wisdom,
and purging past,
with each painful groan.

Their silent heritage broken
as the meek battle cry
left fluid filled lungs,
breathing life into a stale room.
A frightened young woman,
now matriarch, cradles hope
between trembling hands
for the first time.

What is the shape of bravery?
A strong chiseled jaw gifted at birth.
A mothers distended belly
at nine months.
The curve of a woman’s
engorged breasts desperate to feed.

Or is it simply,
the silhouette of new mother
embracing her infant.

© Sabrina Escorcio
July 2018

Heritage Series

Dedicated to my mother and daughter.

Sabrina was born to Italian Catholic immigrant parents in the…

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Introducing New Collective Member Sabrina Escorcio – We Are Of The Women

So very thankful to be part of the Whisper and the Roar team of writers.

Whisper and the Roar

We are of the women
that came before us
whose bare soles bled like hell
that our souls might fair well,
gave birth to our freedom
mourning the death of their own.

Delivered us
from the womb of poverty
unto fertile soil of a new country,
Terra Firma waiting to be tilled
hydrated by immortal tears
swallowed over one thousand years.

They spoke in whispers,
when spoken to by men,
as scream decayed to sighs
tucked well out of sight
mortal sins not owned, sheltered
left to repent to envious men
behind a veil of hypocrisy.

The only evidence of sacrifice;
marks stretched in brail across skin
an unwritten story, so ours begins.

© Sabrina Escorcio
May 2018

Heritage Series

Sabrina was born to Italian Catholic immigrant parents in the beautiful Niagara region in Ontario, Canada. Surrounded by nature and raised on a self-sustaining farm, nature and faith are two…

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It’s Raining Again

IMG_3797 2.jpg

The rain hums a tune melancholy,
as I remain with nothing save
for memory to wrap lonely bones
that shiver in spite of heavy sighs
meant to warm cold vacant sheets

Visions stretched thin,
lacing webs of confusion
around fragile ribs
Longing again, for the deep breath
that filled empty spaces in my chest,
making heart a home

He spoke whispers
into the emptiness,
soothed the ache under my breasts
and returned from which he came
This cage where love once born,
all the same is meant to parish

Sabrina Escorcio
August 2018

Painting by Chris Peters, “Between two Points”

Hymn of Solitude

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There is loneliness
In loving fiercely
In waiting for the empath hand
Held once to mine upon the alter
Yet gifted empty palms of years
In place of quiet whispers
To hush the voice of fear
There is crisis
Within faith that evolves
As dawn to dusk revolves
Yet amidst our loss,
There is perfect healing
And time, a testament to self
Where belief composes wisely
Our prayerful hymn of solitude
To lift unto the heavens

Sabrina Escorcio
September 2018

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