Tiara Swearington is an unhoused writer and poet who lives in Oakland.
Why I don’t go home for the holidays
Reflections on the holiday season by an unhoused writer whose family lives close by
My mind, the haunted house
Living with mental illness can feel like living in a haunted house all the time.
Optimism is real…isn’t it?
"My soul refuses to die even with a heart full of pain and eyes full of cries in the words of Maya Angelou, 'still I rise.'"
Apology to Jada’Marie
Mommy’s sorry I can’t be perfect I’m trying.Whenever I’m weak, I think Jada’Marie is worth it. It may not seem
A poem by Tiara Swearington.