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.

You, my sir.
Yes, you.
There’s going to be hard days.
Even easy days.
You, the person reading this,
Has the opportunity to make
The day a great one.

You, my sir.
Yes, you.
Of course it’s going
To be full of ups & downs.
That’s the beauty of life.

It’s your duty as a human
To break the negative branches
And build such glory
From the leftover twigs.

You, my sir.
Yes, you.
I believe in you.
I see you.
I love you.

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?

My story is about a woman who had two kids between the ages of 21 and 25. She had two girls who are now 15 and 10. After she had her second child, she made one of the hardest decisions she now regrets. She decided to have her tubes tied and an ablation done because she knew, deep down, that she couldn’t take care of another child due to personal reasons. Despite her belief that she would never have kids again, seven years later, after getting remarried, she found out she was going to have another baby.

She was shocked when she took two home pregnancy tests. She thought, “How is this possible?” Her doctor had told her that the procedure was supposed to be effective, but after two exams were done, the first test revealed that the procedure, after all this time, hadn’t worked, and the second test revealed that there was indeed a baby. Unfortunately, she ended up miscarrying, and all that was left was the gestational sac. She was only two months along, and even though she didn’t yet know the sex of the baby, she wanted to honor him by imagining him as a boy since her partner also had girls.

She was devastated and decided to create a memorial for him. She made a plaque, had a memory box with angel wings, and a special Christmas ornament with his name and the message “In Loving Memory.” She also chose a tattoo for her arm featuring wings, a golden halo, and blue feet to represent him. Her parents even made her a special present to honor their first grandson. They crafted a family of bears, with the mom bear and each of her cubs. She took it home, wrote each of her babies’ names on it, and gave them a special paint color.

Every year, she takes a moment to honor her son and reflects on what he would have looked like if he had loved his sisters and how big he would have been. Many questions run through her mind: What would he have grown up to be? Who knows?

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.

Life is like walking on a bridge; it can crumble and break when the energy is off. Twists and turns will appear along the way. When you find yourself in a tough spot, breathing becomes harder when there’s nowhere to run. The mind and balance can only handle so much, and if you’re alone, there’s no escape. How can one person sort everything out and stay alive?

A woman without her chariot has lost all hope and ponders. She sighs, thinking, “How much more can the atmosphere around me crumble?” In the lost cage that was her home, she counted the days and waited patiently for some light to appear.

Hello there sunshines, I am here with some great news you can naturally overcome depression and anxiety. The bible teaches us how to naturally balance the positive and negative emotions in our lives. It’s ok at the darkest moments In Our lives to go to the doctor and get the help needed at that moment, he made doctors for a reason. What’s not okay is to rely on that medication to fix al of your childhood and adult relationship traumas. God has walked me through deliverance and a Beautiful way to enjoy life, focus on self love and hear his voice and tune out the world. Here are some tips on how to live life to the best of your ability on a budget. First find a job that u enjoy not have to show up to everyday ,but want to show up to and take pride in your work daily. Second find an area where just u and God can bear each other’s voices. God showed me and my sister in Christ this past year so many ways to see and appreciate his beauty from door dashing, in multi states ,to visiting museums and botanical gardens, to Learning about plants animals and history and it was a great stress reliever. Everyday for the past year doordash paid for our museum trips ,air b and b , and food and gas as we traveled America. We stayed in the tri state area and everything was within four hours of home.Our daily budget for spending was 20.00 most of the time it ended up under that price range. The third thing God helped me with to not be stressed and depressed was laying all of life’s problems at his feet and he gives us rest as it states in scripture. Picture yourself with one carryon bag then another suitcase and before u know it your carrying the entire planes luggage. This analogy is our lives we tend to worry and fear and pickup baggage that doesn’t belong to us. Cast your cares upon him and he will give u rest Amen. The fourth way to get rid of anxiety and depression is by using sensory things from your environment. This consist of smelling hearing seeing tasting and touching. I find for me nature walks running waterfalls and rivers,coloring on sidewalks with chalk, photographing nature and just being youself in general, traveling to local places, interacting with animals both tame and wild, and social distancing when needed work best. When noises around us are loud and overbearing putting on headphones and listening to something encouraging helps. Get in the habit of finding the daily verse that speaks life and encouragement into your soul and live out your purpose, 💓 u are loved I pray this helps the mass numbers and you can get peace in your hearts and enjoy your life much love and light 🕯️

Dear Lord,

We’ve had a lot of talks lately. Some good, some not so good. I’ve prayed for a couple ambulances and high schoolers and the parents for the infants at my school.

I’ve prayed for less anger, more sleep, less anxiety about the world. For the United States, for Gaza, for Syria and Lebanon and Yemen and the Congo…

For guidance.

I’m not the best of Jews, I know that. I don’t eat kosher like I should, I often forget my nightly prayers, I work on the sabbath. I know I’m not the best.

I try. I fast and I repent and I want to learn more about you Lord. I feel like the older I get, that I feel closer to you. I pray to you in good and in bad times. Our relationship has its valleys and mountains but I know you better. You’ve always known me though.

There’s a lot of suffering in the world. Time is marching backwards underneath my feet and I feel like I cannot make the world stand still. Or continue the original path or rotation. I pray in the hopes that you will be able to guide the right people to the right paths soon. Existence is a form of resistance, right?

Poetry feels a lot like prayer. I take a pen to my carotid artery and bleed all over these little letters, in hopes that it will string together coherent words. Using a young language to spill these feelings that I’m not quite sure have names. I pour it all out, I step back, and realize the feeling is duller now that it’s no longer in me.

That’s what prayer feels like to me.

I don’t know why, Lord, you made me this way. I know there must be a reason, there’s always a reason but I cannot see it. And I want to see it. I know you don’t make mistakes but— why do I feel like I am one?

I don’t feel like a good sister, a good friend, a good daughter, a good lover. I feel like I’m selfish. Spoiled. I demand too much. Give too little. A hypocrite. A liar.

Sometimes I don’t feel human. I’m so angry sometimes, Lord, that I just want to scream!!

Sometimes I just wanna grab someone and slap the living shit out of them. I wanna make someone feel as horrible as I do. I want them to feel every punch, kick, stab, slice, grope and rape that I have experienced. Then I feel horrible for wishing this fate on a nonexistent person and I pray for forgiveness. I know it’s an intrusive thought, I know I’d never do such a thing. But it kills me when I think about it.

There are times that I wanna go into an empty field and just scream into it. Sob as hard as I want for as long as I want. No one to eavesdrop, no one to watch. Just lose it fully for once.

I need that.

I’ve prayed to you about some things that I didn’t mean. I prayed to die many times. I know you know I didn’t mean that, which is why I’m still here.

I’ve prayed why my boyfriend doesn’t love me. I know he does, I just wish I could feel it like I know it. He adores me. He loves me. I need a little help remembering that Lord. If you have the time to spare, I’d greatly appreciate that.

I think- I think I struggle to believe I can be loved. Years of hurt can do that to a person. I try so hard to make sure those I love never feel the way I felt. Unlovable. Broken. No longer human. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a relationship outside of my childhood best friends that made me feel like a person.

When my boyfriend and I started dating it felt like someone had reignited a previously stamped out candle. Now the wick is burning but there’s no wax to cling to. I am so fucking lonely G-d. If you ever have a spare moment, enter my dreams and remind me that I am not alone. Remind me of my partner, my brother, my friends. Remind me of the job I love, the life I’ve chosen, the skills I possess. You’ve got bigger things to worry about than me, but I’d like to not be forgotten. Don’t forget to remember me in that whirlwind of human chaos you’ve come to know.

I know that I just have to grit and bear some of it like a big girl. I know that I have to fight. But I— I don’t have a lot of fight in me right now.

So Lord, if you could do this for me, I’d greatly appreciate it. If you could instill in me the need to fight, the need to claw my way out, I will claw my way out.

Amen,

Dear Ex,

It has been almost five years since I left you. I miss you still. You leave monthly whispers of alimony, and quarterly updates of your life since the abandonment.

I keep feeling that it is all too good for me. I left you in the worst possible way. I professed my love for someone else – someone I could never have, anyway.

I was flippant and psychotic about it, too. I got up and left one day, never to return.

I regret leaving you the way I did. Our marriage was dying a slow death. But I didn’t have to hack at your heart in one fell swoop.

I made you pack my belongings because I couldn’t bear to come back and do the deed myself.

Recently, I had a nightmare that the tables were turned. I was packing your stuff. Only then, did I realize what an impossible task I set you up with.

I stayed for 13 years because I thought the good outweighed the bad. The fun times seemingly overshadowed the screaming matches, the cruel use of semantic language.

You told me I was hard to love, that I was emotionally complex. That was your way of calling me a bitch.

I called you out on it. You confirmed the not-so-cryptic message.

But hey. We both had our unresolved traumas that we brought into our fights. Not even two years of couples therapy near the end of our marriage could foster effective communication skills.

We were both far too wounded to see past ourselves, yet we didn’t know where one of us ended and the other began. The intertwining and untangling happened at the most inopportune times.

You told me during our last quarterly update that you had forgiven me for my transgressions. I asked why, and you said that four-and-a-half years would be a long time to hold onto such emotional turmoil.

I realized then that I had not yet forgiven myself. Now, I listen to the 36-year-old part of me who left. I understand now.

That part of me was doing the best they could. They thought they were being merciful by finally ripping off the bandage and walking out on our eight-year marriage.

It was that moment that I could finally start to forgive myself.

Then, I listened to the 27-year-old part of me – the one simultaneously full of hope and doubt about our upcoming marriage. They whispered to me:

I love her so much. But I’m in too deep.

Had I loved myself then as much as I do now, I would have been merciful and cut the cord right then and there.

I put your happiness above my own.

And now I realize that you weren’t happy either. Not with me. And certainly not with yourself.

We sought love within each other, when we needed to look within ourselves first.

Had we done that, we might have been best friends for 18 years instead of fractured lovers for 13 years and separated souls for another five.

I forgive you, dear ex.

I also forgive myself.

You may not ever be my best friend again, but I will hold our fun times dearly.

Now, as tears well up in my eyes, I contemplate a future of being in a relationship with myself. After all, no other relationship will matter to me nearly so much.

I will probably never get married again, but I wish myself – and YOU – all the happiness in the world, finally.

And maybe soon, we will both achieve inner peace and tell each other all about it in our next quarterly update.

Vibrant with excitement,
Smiles that brighten
The evening, like the sun.
Once it creeps into the horizon.
Having an amazing night
& waking up to a beautiful morning.
Sky gazing, watching the
Clouds forming and dissipating.
I’m looking at A masterpiece,
from God’s Creations,
like it was the stroke
From the wrist. I’m feeling
Blessed to witness this image.
My eyes Constructing art,
With images from the
The mind. Working with imagination,
Creating & Living through these illusions.
Miraculously mirrored images from within.