I asked myself, is this real?
this day is truly coming true.
the day where we both step on the podium and look at each other in the eyes,
while we listen to someone else tell us that this is a forever bond,
is this truly happening?
are we truly becoming one?
April 29th two years ago was the first time we kissed,
and on the 29th of 2023, our first kiss took place again,
but now as a married couple,
as a husband and a wife,
how dreamful it was to see your teary eyes,
in a moment where time froze as we held hands and gave each other our vows,
how fulfilling I felt,
watching you place the ring on my finger while smiling as a tear drop came down of those beautiful brown eyes.
How loved I felt when you kissed my hand, and the butterflies in my stomach danced at the rhythm of the pulse in your hands that accelerated when I placed my love in your ring finger,
I will never forget that special moment where the pastor said you may now kiss your wife,
and you looked at me with awe, and excitement and I just knew that this moment of us would forever remain in my heart,
as the day that my best friend and I chose to continue our friendship and created a marriage that might not be perfect,
but it is worth being in for the rest of our lives.

The following poem is my entry to the contest… as well as being a poem about an experience with a moos in the wilds of Colorado. Being camped near Monarch Pass [elevation 11.350 ft), maybe a couple thousand feet lower on the banks of the North fork of the Arkansas River in June of 2023. I trust that you’ll enjoy the piece, and leave me a comment or two! Respectfully submitted, Ray Whitaker

BLACK MOOSE

It resonates with me
my encounter with another mysticism of nature
at the edge of the mountain glen.
While chancing to be near it
the large, black mass standing stationary in the aspens
as if to be unnoticed by being still

a bull moose eating leaves from above it’s head
a thin line of silver fur
going from mighty shoulder to mid back
young antlers soon to be a fierce armament
now in velvet, growing
as if to scoop up the world.

Moving closer
keeping a mature pine betwixt
the likely over a thousand pounds of magnificence
and my wonder

thus occupied I did not worry
when he stopped eating
looking in my direction
standing there wondering about me perhaps
as he stood in the dappled sunlight.
Astonished at the proximity
noticing the depth of these brown eyes
pushing souls together, mine to his
brown, mine, to brown, his
iris’ different, mine round, his oval

being in the moment of no thought
now wondering if he had a name
no feeling of fear in that closeness
only around twenty paces separating us
the sun shone on me as I looked
and as if I felt that regal power-black fur
a strength, assurance, commanding the ground
he stood on, like owning the very earth.

He is next to my tree now
having moved so silently
and keeping the thick pine between us,
our eyes locked still
getting what each other had to give
my consciousness mingling
with the being of this immense creature
his long neck craning around, reaching nearly in my space.

I moved away, breaking the mesh
keeping the pine tree between we two
having realized this tree
was woefully small
having become a wood beetle now uncovered under the bark
I retreated to the next few tall pines nearby.

I am the Rhinoceros Beetle now.

Our conversation had not ended
tho no words had been spoken out loud
no malice felt, only a near wistfulness
from the moose and I.

Like a translator would be appreciated
to move the instances together somehow

staring into each other’s eyes
for longer still
feeling the thoughts
each having our own insights
of consciousness
and intuitiveness

that powerful rippling muscled black now moving away
my humanness moved in this moment.

Even wanting to know where all this would go
I did not follow deeper into this thicket, his woods.

It’s supreme to see, the difference between guided meditations between poets. The way one’s words can give spirit the will to steer a movement. And the lost of the spoken word to preform in-front of gods when its lost in moments. This pine box that kept lock the pillars of actions, and thoughts which keep me in motion. It’s these times when a call from god can give you the Courage to defeat the cowardice of self service to societies involvements. But it came from an unsealed person, who wasn’t washed by the addictions of personal cues to batter the isolated person. A personified hue-man who gave me the impression to be a super soldier. So buried alive was the feeling that my words wasn’t enough to spread a revolution.

I’ve had many memorable days and moments within 2023 that I will never forget. All involves my daughter and grandkids. Days, I thought a couple time during my life I would never see, due to two cancer diagnoses. So, those days will always be the best days of my life. There’s no other days better. But I must say, one day in particular I will never forget, and I received it so gracefully. That day would be November 10, 2023. It would be the day I received the words. “No Cancer Found”. Yes, just as the time of year I was diagnosed previously, right around the holidays. I had a couple symptoms that made my MD, as well as myself think the Big (C) may have returned. On this very special precious day, I was told, all was good, and all tests had come back negative. That’s all I wanted to hear during the holidays. One of the greatest gift to myself, after my children. I had been feeling down thinking it would ruin my holidays yet again, but God!

The best day is a slow day at work. The best day is the day that the sun is shining, but it’s not too hot outside. The best day is the first day the temperature drops in September. The best day is the day I can give my baby a kiss. The best day is the day I belly laugh with my best friends until my cheeks hurt. The best day is the day I give my mom a hug. The best day is the day I am loving and kind on purpose. The best day is the day without anxiety; the day I can breathe through it. The best day is the day I start a new book. The best day is the day I finish my new favorite book. The best day is the day I start knitting, and every day I get to since. The best day is the day I get to go on adventures with the people I love. The best day is going to the Atlanta Zoo with my oldest sister and our partners. The best day is that same day, at the zoo, when a lion made eye contact with me (I swear it’s true!). The best day is in Boston, watching the second oldest sister graduate from Harvard. The best day is reconnecting with extended family for the first time in a decade in Boston. The best day is the day I went to the Hozier concert, and I was physically connected to the music and the message more than ever before and everyone in the audience was crying and it was beautiful. The best day is the day I realized my chronic illness is teaching me how to stop and rest. The best day is the day my cat decides he wants to snuggle in my lap before bed. The best day is therapy day! The best day is the day I realized I am healing; my hard work is paying off. The best day is the day I let myself cry in front of someone else. The best day is the day I realize I’m as smart as I think I am and, yes, I can prove it to you. The best day is the day I decide to be brave. The best day is the day I do the brave thing.

Traveling this skyline for you
Taking flights through out the night for you
When I met you
You turn all my fears to reals
Turing my possibilities to my reality truth
One day, Looking forward to standing right in front of you
Holding your hands
And saying I DO
We will be decked out
In our favorite new suits
Nevertheless my best
Was when I met you on June 20th, 2023
It was our greatest test
We hardly slept and got any rest
Sleepiness nights
This love feels so calendar nice
Never second guessing
At first, our trust issues got the best
But that wasn’t the end nor the rest
Falling in love with who I am
Falling in love with this woman
Cause now all I can say is I CAN

Dear Unsealers:

2023 is rapidly coming to a close.
365 days have come and gone.
Yet, one particular day this year stands out from the rest.

It was Sunday, October 1st.

After spending a week running around mainland Greece, our group boarded a plane departing from Athens and arrived on the island of Crete. Kalimera to the city of Heraklion.

Island time had kicked in with a later start. But it would be a busy day nonetheless.

Our first stop brought us to the archeological site at Knossos. The open air seat of the Minoan civilization. The Labyrinth was underneath our feet, alas there was no sign of the mythic Minotaur around.

The next stop was to the Titakis Winery.

A tour of the vineyard began amongst the vines. Walking through vines and picking off the grapes to eat. The production process was explained further before we tasted the wine. Two tables under blue skies, sunshine and four different wines. Each one getting its due.

Further around the island we went for lunch. It would be a multi course affair with abundant food and conversation. At this point of the trip, our group had become like family. For good measure, the meal finished with a round of the liquor Ouzo. Don’t be fooled by its clarity, the drink packs quite a punch.

As we arrived back at the hotel, the day wasn’t over yet.

Upon arriving at the hotel the day before, I had seen the logo of the soccer club AEK Athens in the conference room nearby. I didn’t understand the reason why it was there, though.

As I made my way up to the hotel’s lobby, the sound of soccer chants filled the air. A big smile on my face, the star struck look on our guide’s face as AEK is the soccer team her and her sons support and bewilderment from everyone else. AEK Athens was in town for a match against the local side OFI Crete F.C..

The group of thirty two became thirty six as a pair of college students and a pair of professional Greek dancers joined us on the bus heading to dinner. The sun set over Iraklio as day turned to night.

We arrived at a taverna on the other side of the island. Nary a soul around as we walked up the steps to the terrace. Tables laid out below the vine covered roof. And on the horizon, a full moon changing colors in the sky.

The meal began with a pair of musicians providing the soundtrack for the night. Without saying a word, the island’s passion was felt.

After the meal was done and the dancers had shown us their moves, it was time for us to join the celebration and dance. The joy in the room was so strong, the ouzo that had been brought out wasn’t needed.

I went up to the musicians to thank them for the music. I mentioned to them that I was a writer and a poet.

And one of them made a wish for me: that I would return to Crete to spend the summer writing.

As I looked up at the full moon on the way back to the bus, I knew it was an amazing day.

And there was still the visit to Santorini on the near horizon.

I used to talk a lot. I’d do anything to keep the conversation going, to not be alone. If there was a lull, I’d say things like, “really?” or “wow” or “oh,” on and on. A filler. That’s all it was. Filler words had a hidden meaning to them; they begged, on hands and knees, and said, “Keep talking to me I can’t lose you I’d talk my throat dry if it meant you always had something to respond to.”
I’m not scared to lose anyone anymore. I’m only scared of letting the wrong ones in.
People come and people go. If I am the ocean, then I have to be mindful of what floats my way; everything either adds to my ecosystem or tries to destroy it.
It is not so terrifying to be alone, after all, because peace is more important than all else.
To be respected, you must not let anyone disrespect you again, because at the end of the day, the only one you’ll have to answer to is yourself.
To define what exactly it means to be worthy of respect is tricky. You could mention achievements or accolades, popularity, goals attained, money earned, but even that is worthless if you don’t have heart.
Who did you love and why?
Were you brave enough to bare your soul?
Did you protect the innocent or did you step on the good guys as a means to an end?
Did you fight?
Are you still fighting?
Fighting to live, to seek justice, to prosper, to be free?
I deserve the utmost respect because I am a survivor. Because I chose life. Because I will never stop fighting. Because I refuse to just be “alive.” Because I will become life.

(I) Respect Me

R-
E-
S-
P-
E-
C-
T

Who deserves it?

Why me?

I’ll be the first to admit I’ve quit.
And go as far as to confess
what a mess I’ve made.

Because see,

there’s no amount of grit that guarantees
I’ll be met with respect of any degree.

The more I learn the more I’ll earn–
it was only a matter of time
before it’d be my turn.

Or so they said.
Then-convinced, I complied

in the name of getting ahead.

And cliche as it may sound
That was then and this is now.

Presently, I make countless donations
to the cause that is me.

I know now that I don’t need a destination–
what I need is to be free,
let go of expectations.

So I honor this affinity for creation I’ve long felt–
bringing the unimaginable to life through self expression.
I assign meaning–

they meet me–

to the real me.

Some they disagree
in silence.
Others plea–

grounded by old beliefs
like roots of a tree.
But that could never be me.

So how does one get to be respected?
They don’t.

They won’t.

I don’t.
And won’t.

Not unless or until
I am free to be me–
even if they don’t agree.

Tomorrow’s a new day–
another chance.

So, I’ll rest
and the rest
will fall into place.

You see,
self-respect

that’s the key.

It always was and it always will be.

I am worth it.
Why not me?

And now you’ve found out what it means
to me–

why I “deserve” it.