Eye see you
Do you see me?
Soul to soul
Yet oceans away.

Is it weird
To not only ask
For one more night—
But for you to stay?

They say love lasts for a lifetime,
But every minute apart
Feels like you’re eons away.

Eye see you.
Eye see the star you are.
I see the parts of your soul
You try to hide.

Could it be
That you are my soul tribe?
Or maybe my mate…
Either way it goes,
This union feels divinely great—
Almost as if it was fate.

Bashert.
Eye see you.
Soul to soul.
Fated love so true.
Eye see you.

Bashert, my love,
For you is destined to be.

⸻

My soul searches for you,
But eye cannot find
Where you are hiding…

Some days I am rain.
Other days, I am earth.
Some days I am air.
Other days, I am fire.

I scorch new paths to rebirth.
But will you still love me the same
On days when I can’t flow like water—
When I bring storms, lightning, and rain?

I might blow my fuse and explode,
Blowing like wind…

But the river of my love is ever flowing
Into oceans of understanding,
Deeper than the cosmos—
The great gift of knowing.

That you are my Baz, and eye you.
My soul sees your soul,
As the light of this
Divine union shines through.

Bashert, my love—Bashert.
For the Divine One
Designed me just for you.

No justice no peace
That’s what they are screaming
in the streets
No justice no peace
The streets run red
While they back the blue
They don’t bat an eye
Because a wall matters
more than life
No justice no peace
That’s what the mothers
are crying in the streets
The streets flood
With innocent blood
Hard to say their
Names when
You’re still at the first sentence
They say we’re guilty
Because our skin holds
no innocence
They say we need repentance
No justice no peace
That’s what the brothers
are screaming in the streets
Broken glass and broken skull
Love is something that
became void and null
Bitterness and hatred
flood our streets
No more white sheets
The enemy has a badge and
a tailored suit
No justice no peace
Time to break the lease
Move from the apartments
Of pain and injustice
To the suburbs of righteousness and truth
No justice no peace
Let these words be
Proof of the prophecy
Of I’m not liable to say what we won’t do
No justice no peace
I fell to my knees
Came back purring
Ready to lead
My people to freedom
For the sake
of the kingdom
No justice no peace
Because they said it is “just us”
Free Palestine
Free Sudan
Free the Congo
Creation is crying
Don’t act like you don’t know
If you don’t like what I said
That’s fine because
I’m ready to the die for mine
I’m tired of my people crying
Government scamming and exploiting
The poor for money
We already know they lying
They bombing children
They are conducting massive genocide
They throwing stones
And then run and hide
To play victim
it’ll all work out
Like it’s the people
And not the system
And when we stand together
We are impervious
That’s the shit
That makes these
Colonizers nervous
No justice no peace
Don’t sell me no dream
Of mansions and gold-paved streets
For an afterlife
While I live in
A world built with lies
Pain, agony, and strife
You sell me everlasting life
And then take my life
Say we believe in the same
God
Yet you treat us like
Enemies
I thought we were supposed
to be kin
Your neighbor, brother, and friend
No justice no peace

Dear Unsealers,

When I was a little girl, my grandfather bounced me on his knee and sang “Three Little Fishes” as I giggled through the song. All he ever wanted was for me to feel joy in life. He died when I was 13. It was my first experience with overwhelming grief, and I was devastated. I coped by leaning into the idea that my grandfather was watching over me and cheering me on in all my pursuits.

He used to tell me that the rain was good luck. So, whenever it rained during big moments of my life, I believed it was my grandfather signaling to me, “Don’t worry, I am here.” It rained at my high school graduation. It rained when I scored big goals in soccer. It rained when I interviewed for my dream job as a sports anchor. It poured the day I was offered that job, which happened to be my late grandfather’s birthday. It seemed like it was always raining on the most important days of my life, which only cemented my belief that my grandfather was watching out for me.

However, on November 30, 2022, it was a clear night in Miami — not a cloud in the sky. I decided to attend a networking event for people in Miami who work in technology. There, I made eye contact with this tall, handsome man. He started talking to me, and after telling him about my company, The Unsealed, he told me that he had founded an online company when he was younger. He said his site received 20,000 organic hits daily (that’s a lot). And so, I started asking many questions — it was rapid-fire, one after the other. At some point, he stopped me and said, “Do you want to continue this conversation over tacos?” And so, we left and ate Mexican street corn and tacos on a picnic table outside a restaurant that doubles as a speakeasy.

It didn’t take me long to realize that this man was kind, intelligent, classy, funny, and thoughtful. From that day forward, we started spending a lot of time together: dinners, events, and even weekend trips. As I opened up to him about my past and my pain, he listened closely. He asked questions, and he never judged me. One time, we were watching a movie, and I had a flashback from my sexual assault. I put the pillow over my head and asked him to change the channel quickly. He turned off the TV, and as my eyes started to well up with tears, he said, “Come here, let me hold you.” When I shared my fears and insecurities about building a company, he said, “Lauren, think of the ten smartest people you’ve ever encountered, and I promise you at least nine of them couldn’t do what you’ve done.” To this day, he always follows through when he makes a promise to me, whether it be a trip to a foreign place or to my favorite restaurant. From the beginning, he has known when I am happy, anxious, frustrated, or hungry — just by the look on my face — and has responded accordingly. He is so in tune with who I am and how I feel that it seems as though my peace is his priority.

Even so, early in our relationship, I was afraid to trust the authenticity of his love. I had been disappointed so many times in love and relationships, and I was on edge, just waiting for the shoe to drop — just waiting for something to go wrong. I couldn’t live in the moment as I was too afraid it would soon end. One night, he was on his computer while I was resting on his couch, and I randomly asked him what his name meant in his culture. He was in the middle of working and responded, “I don’t know — something with water.” So I googled it. His name translates as “the God of rain.”

In disbelief, that was the moment I began to let myself love and be loved. That was the moment I started to trust my partner and the universe. It was the reassurance I needed to know I was safe. About a year later, he proposed to me on the boardwalk at Disney World. We are getting married in a few months, and I am so excited. Falling in love has enriched my life and made the present moment so special, so much so that it has made me believe that magic exists in all of our lives.
For years, the rain was a way for me to stay connected to the joy my grandfather brought me, but now, it’s what allowed me to embrace the joy right before me.

With immense hope and gratitude,

You might shake
Your head at me
in Disapproval
And say
I have no class
Poke fun at me
And laugh
You might call me
Slut
You might call me Whore
Because I can
Move these hips
So melodically
On this dance floor
Your brain can’t help
But fantasize
About me doing more

It’s a Hot girl Summer
Imma shake my dreads
To this Sexyy Red
Drop it down low
Cause whether
This ass is big or small
I am thick for sum
I back it up for
The 99s and 2000s
And twerk fa sum
Hands on my knees
I don’t mind bending
It over
To let it breathe
Cause I got hump
In my back
And I’m shaking this rump
Because it frees me

You might
Think I am sleazy
And that sleeping
With me is easy
Because I love moving
This booty meat
I shaking off shackles
Off me
Everything that used
to hurt me
Disappears
When I shake my ass
I tapping into my divine and
dark femininity
Twerking away the guilt and shame
From the trauma of early
Exposure to sexual activity
I am shaking myself loose
I am shaking myself free

From the voice of the imposter
and silent critic
Cause in the words of my
Granny B “ I don’t give a shit”
I am shaking off years of
Physical, emotional, mental and sexual abuse,curses
And trauma
This shit is generational
I inherited it from
My Mama’s mama’s mama’s
Mama’s mama
This shit goes deep
These thick thighs
Don’t save no other lives
But my own
I wiggle these hips
For every time
When I was younger
And was told
Dancing made me fast and Too grown
Like being stiff as a board
Made my sexual abusers leave me alone
So I guess I will be that floozy
Cause I will shake it to anything from
Slipknot to Tupac
Mozart, Dolly and Shaboozey
I shake my ass because I inner stand
The freedom in my movement
I fall in love with all I am
And who I am coming to be
I don’t give a damn
You can Judge me
I know who I am and that I am set free
So you can sit there like a bump on a log
I am celebrating me
So enjoy the view I guess
While I gyrate and wiggle
This bodacious booty
And receive the blessings
release the stress
and Set my soul free