Check in with
those closest to you.
Okay. I will.
It’s just who I’ve become.
Checks messages,
Casper feeling.
Nothing.
Am I not that
Important
As I consider you?
Am I not worth
The seconds it takes
As I give to you?

Check in with
those closest to you.
Nah. I’m good.
Let them come
to me.

Those who love and live in Christ have a better chance at everlasting life with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Sons and Daughters arrive in the light. Peace within and not in fright. He cares for us more than we delight—struggles of each day cause the heart to steal away. In the darkness of the serpent’s path, we fight and argue in dismay.
But once we find that perfect Holy place, we no longer need to be afraid. God’s love is great, strong, and sure. We know He will protect us each day. We must remember to stop and pray. Asking for help with every little thing that we do and say. To make sure Satin does not get in the way. His light is in us, and darkness is far away. Thank you, God, for all that you do.

How precious is the life we have? The savior came and bled for thee. The cross to bear so we may live with the Gardner for eternity. As humans go, we must ask for help along the way. He is there just for us; all we must do is stop and pray. You God our 3 in 1 The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit for your everlasting love that set us free, salvation born, salvation dies so we can grow love and live with Christ.

A silver dove stretched out its shimmering wings and flew across the midnight sky. Wings touched the sky’s luminaries; the past’s remnants became transient. It gently glides to the earth like a bolide. The dove was beautiful as it played, cooing and swaying to each star. At one point in his flight, he kissed the moon’s hue. This happy little dove turned and looked at me. He gently came, landed on my shoulder, kissed my cheek, and left in the glistening of the moonlight. Never have I seen such a beautiful sight. I understood that a generous gift of God’s love was bestowed on me that night. I knew then I was in his care. I was to spread the story of God’s unfailing love.

Boundaries mean I don’t have to people-please to keep the peace around me.
Boundaries mean I can use my voice—and finally stand up for me.
Boundaries mean I’m no longer bothered by those who are no longer around me.
Boundaries mean I’ve made peace with being alone, even when I feel the urge to flee.

Boundaries are understanding that fight-or-flight is no longer the rhythm of me.
Boundaries are not needing to jump out of a moving car just to feel free.
Boundaries are no longer dreaming of screaming in a crowd that can’t hear me.
Boundaries are no longer disassociating from the feeling of being absentee

It began to greet her
and dance with her
at six years old..
The belief of the lie
that she wasn’t beautiful..

Inviting itself in during her
tea parties and sleepovers
and even as her innocent
and delicate eyes observed
life all around her..

This violence reached her…
when all she was reaching
for… were charm bracelets
and babydolls..

At six years old all she
knew were charm
bracelets and babydolls..

Yet the lies that communicated
that brown skin wasn’t as valuable,
worth it, or worthy as those
that had other skin tones,
lighter skin tones, especially those
with whiter skin tones, those lies
began tip-toeing in through
the back entrances of her
six year old tea parties..

Echoing those lies that anyone that
had her full lips, her hair texture,
and her shaped nose were
people of lesser significance..

How could such violence
reach her… when all she
was reaching for…
were charm bracelets
and baby dolls?

Her six-year-old little fingers,
grabbing the undertones of
society that showed up
without welcome.. and those
lies were placed in her unaware
hands as she accepted the
poison she had no idea
she’d even accepted..

And while her family kept putting
out the wildfires of society that
was teaching her to hate herself
by teaching her how beautiful her
brown skin was, her value, and
how to love herself- yet messaging
that opposed this often was louder..
Because it was simply everywhere
she went.. and everywhere
life presented..

And so her innocent conscience
displaying mixed reviews
of her own worth..

How did such violence
reach her…when all she
was reaching for… were
charm bracelets
and babydolls?

A woman in her comfort zone lies on a sea of mystery, lost for words as she tries to figure out her next source of inspiration. She contemplates what activities she will pursue next and what creative ideas she can incorporate into her work.

Nothing brings more joy than the warmth of inspiration that fuels your writing, while your inner child finds wings in laughter. The combination of medicine and animals makes the day intriguing, but it can be challenging to find the answers needed to keep things progressing.

An angel sits, pondering with a stone and a stick in hand, wondering to herself what she will get into today. Lost in thought, she tries to figure out how she can empower her day to be more to her liking. As she contemplates, she watches her cat zoom up and down the living room while her beast shuffles through the clutter, searching for something to do next. Outside, an elephant roams through her garden, treating her delicate plants as if a storm were brewing, although it is just another typical day. As the angel gathers her thoughts, the skies seem to empower her mind, even though she feels blank. As the breeze flows through the day, she hopes her creativity will spark new adventures.

Time passes while we hold onto hope, yet the fear of waiting for that hope can create a rift that tears things apart. People often say that hope can be a powerful force for overcoming challenges, but what if the hope you’re waiting for leads to different outcomes? Some may anticipate a positive change in their lives, while others might feel that it could bring about the worst situation imaginable. So, ask yourself: what do you do when hope finally arrives? How do you determine whether things will get better or worse?

I can’t say I’m scared
nor terrified
It’d make me look
as if I’m a hypocrite

I’ve been comfortable
for far too long
Letting someone in will
cause so much fog

I deserve to be loved
not just by me
But loved by a king.

I deserve to be
someone’s queen.

Her world was so black.
It consumed even
the slightest of color.
Her journal was the only
place she felt
safe to wander.
Decades later
Color is the brightest consumption.
Her journal – softest eraser
to her nervous system.

Courage it takes courage .young mom working three jobs just barely surviving. Grown up now into an adult she never gave up she never stopped trying. She got up everyday and gave every morning the best she had. Her own family knew whe was different instead of the support they gave her a backhand. She made her own goals her own dreams and her own family. The only thing that kept her going was her faith which lead to her victories over the enemy. Here she sits in the middle of another battle it’s difficult but there’s one thing she knows this is her year her moment and every time the enemy thought he broke her, she got up gave the pain a purpose and pushed stronger. Her children and her heavenly father were here motivation to change the world we live in starting with her . She started in the mirror daily stating affirmations that she was worth it Jeremiah 29 11 being her most favorite. She made her bed in the am did her makeup and got dressed to impress even if she wasn’t going anywhere to her this made perfect sense. She didn’t for in in the world because she was changed when Christ came Into her life. Her presence has an essence a sweet aroma, it draws people in miles from her. Her presence lights up the businesses and rooms, some of which don’t want to charge her because they know there’s just something about her. Everywhere she goes she gets gifts she uses to think it was just a coincidence. Thankful greatful and this girl is definitely blessed.

Dear Unsealers,

It’s the first day of June.

Though, you wouldn’t know it by the way the wind is raging outside right now. It’s actually chilly. As if the season’s are signaling that a change is up ahead.

With the new month beginning, it’s only right to welcome it in. I’ll do so here…

Time is flying by
The month of June has arrived

Thirty new days are here
Spring’s around, not much longer
There’s a hint of warmth ahead
Summer’s near

A month to honor our fathers
And be in awe of the Pride on display

Otherwise, it’s another blank slate
Of wondering how to fill time

To keep the dancing days going
Or, take a beat to clear my head

Six months into the year
With the halfway point of 2025 almost here

I wonder silently…
How did we get here?
Where’s everything going?

Sitting here at this table
With thoughts running wild
Thoughts of how
I’ve made it this far
From where I’ve come
Thoughts of wanting
To quit this journey
For I’m the only one on it

Sitting here at this table
With such appreciation
For what I’ve created
Appreciation that some days
Feel as if I may relapse
For how great I’ve been
Appreciation for what
Was given to me
In the mix of
The black shades of life

Sitting here at this table
Grieving the me
That was abducted
From the black shades
Grieving the me
Who is no longer
Available for reach
Grieving the one
That is today
For tomorrow is new

Here I sit at this table
With such praise in my heart
Praise in my step
Knowing it’s okay to relapse.
Praise in my soul
Knowing each version of me
Will end in an abduction

This table is my healing space
And it’s not for everyone

As the world basked in sunshine and heat, majestic creatures roamed. In the sea of green, small fire holes began to appear, creating a striking contrast. The flames grew larger, popping out of the holes as the vibrant green liquid spread across the river. This dynamic activity caused the fire holes to diminish in size, especially as waves of blue took over the river, with birds joyfully calling out their laughter. When the sun set, it revealed that the river glowed with even more blue, and the once-visible fire holes had completely vanished.

A mountain is on the verge of erupting. A layer of thick skin is evolving over the fire, but the layers are running thin. Water comes down from the heavens to soothe the fire, but the ashes are reaching their highest peak. In the end, the altitude runs short, causing the mountain to dry up and break apart. Will it ever reach the light again and restore its peak?

As the water trickles down, the foundation begins to crack under pressure, just as the bruises fade. The wind in the air is thin, even as time counts down to the end. When will the light finally grow into an unbreakable chain?

Dear Unsealers,

“Bucephalus” is a protest poem about the violence we inherit, the pain we normalize, and the strength it takes to break those cycles. I wrote it to examine the ways masculinity can be distorted by trauma, and how empathy often gets buried beneath performance. This poem speaks to the cost of silence and the quiet resilience of those who choose tenderness in a world that teaches them to harden. It’s a reminder that even the deepest wounds can bloom into something honest—and that too is power.

Bucephalus
The formation of the soul is a seed in the earth,
forged in pressure, blooming through trauma.
Divine mother, singer of arias—
violence takes the limbs from a miner
in an act of endless cruelty.
The acrid scent of sulphur is the last gravestone
where innocence mourns at midday.
By the deathbed of an absent father,
or the bedside of a son who accepts affection
in the slap of abuse’s caress.
We live in a world of dogs dressed up as lions.
One’s suffering is another’s pleasure. Homophobic chauvinism—
masked insecurity; an aversion to kindness,
to the laughter of children.
Those who piss have prayers as well.

A soul adrift in uncharted terrain, she questions all she’s known. Past trials seemed unbearable, yet now she doubts every step. Her words, a desperate cry, poured onto pages in verse and prose. But from her lines, I sense no escape, only loss and shattered dreams. Everything she stood for, believed, and fought for all for nothing.