Sunset comes in muted hues

Orange fire and baby blues

Seaside skies, so vast in views

Birds pass lovers, two by twos

The day erased to bygone news

Sunlight fades to starry muse

Gentle flames from bonfires fuse

Bring restful bliss from daytime’s ruse

From sunrise lies to nighttime truths

Our life resets when dawn renews

Oh-three-thirty
the “am” is implied
it can be considered (in military speak)
as zero-dark-thirty
either way, wakefulness is present
outside the sleeping bag cover in camp.

Yeah, still dark outside
my hound and I go out
and the in the darkness
all one has to do is look
up. There is the splendor
of the night sky, clear, starry, unobscured.

Funny how neither of us even thought
about the night critters that may be about
he relying on my presence for safety
my reliance on him for his superior night vision
and sense of smell to warn.

What pictures are there painted in the dark
with steadying brush in hand, trying not to drip
dusky colors off the palette?

Looking up, at the show of night sky
there is no admission, save wakefulness
the theater is quiet, as if in anticipation
of the drawing back that thick purple curtain
still no noises, the dark is silent.

My eyes only see the the vision of the stars
that I am native to see
over the treetops to the left
are such bright pinpoints
close together enough to be a cluster, perhaps
one must be a planet, intense light from there
I shall have to find out which
still I realize that the visions
from the Webb space telescope
are far more lustrous, clearer.

Returning to the tent
the hot coffee is waiting
mist curling up off the coffeepot spout
like some close up nebulae in the cool morn.

I am full of wonder
not sleep, that was a thing of an hour ago

awaiting the sunrise,
and its chase of the darkness into the distant west.

Poem copyrighted 2023, Ray Whitaker

Dear, Unsealers:

Welcome to the month of December!

After the marathon that 2023 has been, we’ve reached the last mile. The finish line is in sight.

The first day of December is a very special day, as it’s my sister and I’s birthday.

38 years.

I’ve already been in tears twice today and I’m sure it’ll happen a few more times before this day ends thinking about it.

As my sister and I weren’t supposed to survive being born prematurely. My parents didn’t expect us to live but we did. And through all of the challenges that life has brought us, we’ve thrived.

If not for my sister, I wouldn’t love traveling, live music and theater. She’s been the source of strength and resilience that I look up to every day. Most importantly, she’s the first person to believe that I’m capable of a lot more than my cerebral palsy lets on.

My sister is my twin, my other half, my best friend and my hero.

Woke up in a daze not feeling like I wanted to go to work. I attempted to call out. Talked to my boss it was a definite NO, I need you come in… Uhg so I did. feeling bad about leaving my boss hangin I strolled in to work every thing was fine just as it should be. I set up and took my first client.second, third and so on and so forth, I noticed a boy and his mother walk in and sit down. The mother was called by the stylist the sat up front probably about 11 or 12 I would say… All of the sudden out of the corner of my eye I see him grabbing his throat and trying to cough. Without even a thought or a memory of how I got from.here to there it was like an outer body experience watching from above myself in motion attending and defending this little boys will to live. It was crazy, each thrust I felt his body get tighter it seemed like forever I was giving the heimlich maneuver. I’ll tell ya… it wasn’t “I hope” this thing. Comes out it was “going to” come out…. And it did the boy with a blue hue had a natural color to him again.
thank you to who ever what ever that was that came over me the boy started to cough just as the EMTs arrived I stepped a way. They were all clapping, my boss was crying and shaking as was I. My boss pulled me out back to talk she was like how, why if you took the day off…. I just glad you were here today.
The mother of the boy however was beyond her self gave me a hug asked how could she ever repay me for saving the boy I said to her… Him being
alive and breathing is payment enough.
This is my memorable moment….

Dear Unsealers,

I wrote this on the tarmac of my local airport as I witnessed my 16 year old son take his first solo flight. He didn’t even have a drivers license, yet he strapped into the cockpit of a single engine plane and piloting towards the runway. I felt helpless, proud, scared to death, and wanting to run behind his plane all at once. After what felt like a heart stopping forever, he skillfully landed the plane and taxied in. This moment will always be surreal and magical for me.

AIRBORNE

You sail across the mid-day sky

The wind upon my sullen face

You climb to heights unseen

I feel weightless

Like a feather tossed along by the playful wind

My mind is blank, like sterile moonlight

Your heart is warm, like the velvety morning sun

I feel helpless and hopeful

You are falling, drifting, gliding across the open horizon

I can move and love, freely

You can feel all of Earth beneath your unmarred feet

I hold the Universe across my fragile shoulders

And the silence roars into my ears

Along with the bristling of my every hair

The windy tears dry upon my sunburnt cheeks

You are weightless, drifting, soaring

And after seconds that seem like fragments of eternity

Gently, you land, into my embrace

Dear Unsealers,

Kalimera, from my office cubicle.

It’s been four days since I’ve returned back to NYC from Greece. I’ve been alternating between being glad to be back home after the fourteen day trip and missing being out on the road. As this trip has been quite an odyssey, of the non-Homeric kind.

Never did I imagine being able to climb up the Acropolis and seeing the Parthenon bathed in morning daylight. Or the twists and turns at Mycenae, the elevation to reach the monastery at Meteora and the seas of humanity at Fira and Oia. But I did all of it.

Nor, did I imagine taking part in a Greek cooking lesson, and Greek dancing not once, but twice. Lest I forget, a soccer team, AEK Athens and their fans invaded our hotel in Crete with their chants bringing a smile to this soccer fan’s face.

And for the big finish, a catamaran cruise around the islands of Santorini.

With me at my most blissful state, going down the ladder with my shirt off into the water and not feeling self-conscious for even one second in doing so. Just soaking up the sunlight with my fellow travelers on a sunny day.

The thirty two travelers in the group began to be like family as the trip went on, looking out for me as one of the few solo travelers.

As I responded to the email from the customer service department of the travel company used to book this trip, I couldn’t help but feel sad after I pressed send. After nine months of waiting and fourteen days of travel, this chapter of the travel story is closed. I haven’t been adjusting well to being back on this side of the Atlantic, though.

The sadness of being home will pass. Yet, the memories of this trip will stay with me forever. And there’s always the next trip to plan for.

I’m hopeful that I’ll be back on the road traveling internationally at this time next year.

A heartfelt Yamas! to our guide Dina, to our drivers during the trip Yannis, Nikos and Vorgios, to the college students and professional dances that joined us in Crete and to the thirty one fellow travelers that joined me on this trip.

The company that one is with makes the journey all the more special, as this trip was.

To a local bar we went with the intention of having a drink and blowing off some steam. at this point in time I was at the end of a bad relationship, and could have never imagined what lye await that night.
We walked in took a left and sat down. As we watched the bar stools like hawks, I noticed this good looking man out of the corner of my eye. At the time I didn’t pay much attention to him, just a good looking guy right? Except there was something,
Some seats finally opened up at the bar and Michelle and I took our rightful seats, ordered a drink and the night began… Getting up to use the bathroom after two or three drinks, I came back to take my seat once again, low and behold he (The good looking guy from earlier) had the nerve to take my seat. Me feeling a little tipsy and ballsy decided to tap on his shoulder and give him a peace of mind because at that point I was not in the mood to play this game, I couldn’t believe this guy
He turned to me and with a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his face, he exclaimed he was sorry and gave me my seat back like a gentleman. I was impressed to say the least, But still just chalked it up to some bar banter. I’m not going to lie though my heart did begin to race a little, it was that feeling again But why was I feeling this with someone I just met we hadn’t even really talked what was I thinking, so we talk some more and suddenly we began kissing… God it was awesome I couldn’t stop myself it was like I released my body into his and everything fell into place exactly how it should have, it was like a storybook it felt amazing.
So here I am in a bar with my friend kissing a man I never met before, but it felt so right, so good. This kissing went on for a good hour and a half, this was in front of everyone in the bar and I could have given a shit less…then
it was time to go like someone blowing out of flame when it gets too tall, so we exchanged numbers and I left simple as that you say? (Oh no no no) certainly not. I Get in the car and knew I made a huge mistake, I needed to have him with me. If I didn’t act fast I might never see him again I told my friend this, she told me “go get him!”… so I ran back in as fast as I could. Was I wrong? was I making a mistake? was this a bad move? was he going to turn me down? who knows… I’m just going to do it. So I get up the nerve to run back in I spot him and I grab his arm and lead him to my car, he came! holy crap! he went with it! thank God!
What was I supposed to do now I had no idea, so I just went with it. We dropped Michelle off and went back to get his car, he asked me if I smoked I said I did, so we engaged in a bowl. It was awesome I finally had someone to smoke with. It was so relaxing and mellow to be hanging out with him He’s amazing, how did this happen?

Nowadays he’s the love of my life, I couldn’t have asked for anything more out of that one night at the bar.

Usually, when one writes a cover letter, one details the education and related experiences – what “qualifies” them for the job. I did not; I told a personal story of how my life experience is more important than any bullet point highlighting my work skills and accomplishments.

The position I applied for is working with a media company as a fellow. With diversity as a critical component that the company is looking for, I figured I was qualified for the position because of two letters I closely associate with, “CP.” Cerebral palsy is its full name, but someone or something which is well-known or we are close to will often get a nickname.

I can’t take credit for the shortened version. I presume that goes to Dr. John Little (the bearded one who discovered the condition in 1853).
Even though in my letter to the company, I did include bullet points about how my disability enables me to diversify the content taken in by audience members, I avoided the most powerful reason as to why I am a journalist in the first place.

After countless hours of work, making sure every T crossed and I dotted, the application page refreshed. Seeing the blank text boxes got me thinking of the text in my cover letter. Each failed attempt to turn it in turned into another attempt to fix the darn thing. Finally, I decided to call it a day with the dome of negative thoughts destroying me, one thought bubble after another.

My mom could see the displeasure on my face – the eggs I had the morning before were not sunny-side up. She suggested asking a family friend in our apartment building for guidance.

I went over with my mind made up: “I am sending what I have; I’m only here so he can help me submit what I have!” That did not happen, of course, and it turned into a whole family affair — I knew it had to be somewhat good because non of the three dogs ate the printed copy.

After much deliberation, we concluded that – you guessed it, rewrite it over again. When the post-memorandum finished, the plan of action was to really hit the ball on the bat, explaining how I ended up in a field where talent is often overlooked and substituted for one’s looks, and even though I have dabbled in some Adaptive Fashion Modeling, the way I saunter along is not exactly cover of Sports Illustrated worthy.

I mention all of this to convey that the thing you wish people would walk by might not be a clear path, but it will eventually get you to your certainly straight purpose.

As my mentor, Jason Benetti, said when asked if he minds talking about his CP.
“It’s part of me; so many people travel this world and don’t know what’s unique about them. I already have one built-in!”

Whether yours is built-in or not, I hope you find YOUR STRAIGHT PURPOSE.

Much love

Dear Memere G,

Our time with you was always filled with special moments, moments filled with adventures that fostered in me a sense of awe and wonder. Though the days could get busy you always made sure we had a few moments impregnated with silence and rest. You spoiled us to no end with the quality time and the many extravagant gifts you gave us. We had the best dress up closet me and my sisters could’ve ever asked for. But most importantly you always made sure that we knew we were loved.

Even when you had Alzhiemer’s and you couldn’t remember exactly who I was you always found ways to assure me of your love. I remember the day two of your friends came to visit you at the nursing home that you were living at. I was chaperoning this visit to make sure they wouldn’t make you agitated. They didn’t understand the nature of your illness and kept asking you if you remembered specific moments from the past. I wanted to tell them off because I know you were having a hard time, but I didn’t know how. Finally they were going to leave. They wanted and tried but with no avail to have you say “I love you” to them. I knew you were searching for the words but couldn’t find them. After a few minutes of trying to get you to say it they left. I stayed a little longer with you enjoying our time together even if you couldn’t find the words to say. Then about 10 minutes after your two friends left you said “I love you,” clearly, coherently, and confidently. I was so shocked and moved by this special gift that you bestowed upon me. These would be the last coherent words you would say to me.

This meant more to me than anything else. I knew how hard you had to work to find and form those words. I know how your brain was working against you. These words weren’t just words, they were treasures. As a person who has been bullied most of my life I haven’t always been so sure that I was loved. My anxiety and depression convinced me that people didn’t like, nor care about me. Faculty seemed to ignore me or not care when I told them about the bullying. That’s why your words meant so much. I have to think that that’s why you chose to say those words to me, so I always knew that there was someone who loved me. Through a sea of static you showed waves of your love.

I want you to know Memere, that even though you aren’t with us anymore I still love you and I always will.

Until we are reunited again,

It was 13 years ago that I found myself accepted to Youngstown State University in Youngstown State University. I had many dreams in my boyhood. Going to YSU was near the top of the list.

At the tender age of eight years, I told my art teacher, Mr. Anderson, that I wanted to go to Youngstown State when I grew up. He told me that I had plenty of time before that.

10 years later, this boyhood dream of mine was realized. YSU served as the setting for some of the most magical moments I’ve ever had and ever will have.

From the sun-drenched summer morning where I came onto the campus for the first time until the rain-swept Saturday afternoon in 2017 where I graduated, I enjoyed every minute… even if commencement went way too fast that spring day.

From all of the football games that I saw, including the overtime thriller in the third round of the FCS Playoffs my senior year, to all of the lessons I learned, to all of the friends I made and kept, I wouldn’t have traded those years away for anything else.

Wave for the Red and White! Go, YSU!

Dear Unsealers,

This note is something that I’ve done for the last two years. As my friend Chari Pere posted about the things that she had done in the last year. The following is this years list.

In the last year…

I’ve moved on from a job of eight years and found a new, albeit temporary job

The trip to Italy happened after a two year delay

I took in the view from the roof garden of The Met

The Roger Waters concert at MSG happened after a two year delay

I’ve taken to reading and posting my poems on Instagram, Youtube, Swell & Tiktok

I had a mini Made To Do This reunion in person, meeting Rachel Jackson, Kristina Tickler Welsome & Jayati Vora for dinner

I awoke the abundant me

I took in the beauty of “The Beautiful Blue Danube” and clapped along to “The Radetzky March” during the Salute To Vienna concert .

I’ve completed Amy Kay’s “Poem A Day” challenge during NaPoWriMo

I got to see the musical “Company” during it’s Broadway run

I got to meet Victoria Williams during her stay in NYC

I challenged myself by taking Megan Falley’s “Poems That Don’t Suck” course

I’m hosting an open mic for writers and poets with disablities on 3/30

I have my next trip booked for the end of September, to Greece; with one more on the cards before the year ends.

I’m taking steps to become a more independent adult

I know this list doesn’t cover everything that’s happened in the last year.

I’m trying to move my life into a more positive direction

It doesn’t feel like things are happening, though

I won’t stop trying to make forward progress with my life.

Posted on the first anniversary of my Pepere’s passing.

I absolutely adored my Pepere* Hebert. He was a man larger than life and a heart of gold. When I was younger as a joke he would take the Doritos that I would have with my lunch, which would send me into a fit of crying because those were my favorite chips. As I grew older I saw both a silly and sensitive side to my Pepere. One day he would be giving his bride, his wife of over 50 (maybe 60) years a hotdog as a Christmas present, the next he’d be comforting me over the phone and reminding me that he loved me as I cried about lost friendships. I adored this man that would do anything for his family, that would do anything to see me smile. He was my hero saving the day countless times whether it was pulling a pin my sister had gotten stuck in her foot out of her foot (because I was too scared and squeamish to do it myself) or whether it was driving two hours to pick up my prom date whose car had broken down so that I didn’t have to go to prom alone. Every weekend he would take a leisurely ride past those of the children and grandchildren who lived in the area. My mom tells me he did this to make sure we were all ok. I grew up visiting him and my Memere almost every Friday night. If we ever skipped a Friday he was sure to call on Saturday asking when we were coming over. And when we were about to leave he would also exclaim “sabre** come again.” Anyone who visited was sure to feel welcome by the warmth of my Memere and Pepere’s home and the love that they exuded. Both of them were so generous with their time, treasure, and talent.

Perhaps the greatest lesson that my Pepere taught me was to never give up. Though he had several health issues he was never one to sit on the sidelines and wait for death. He found different ways of doing his hobbies. Around Thanksgiving of 2022 both my grandparent’s health declined and they were both in the hospital. My Pepere pressed on and started doing better. My Memere’s health unfortunately declined and she passed away on December 23rd (I’ll write a letter about how much I loved her later on). The funeral for her came and went. The months in between my sweet Pepere couldn’t catch a break. His health was declining. My mom and her sister would visit every day to take care of him and help him with things. In February my parents came downstate (I live 7 hours away from them but still in the same state) to attend another loved one’s funeral. After the funeral we got the news that my Pepere’s health was declining and the end was near. I packed my bag and made the choice to head up North to see him one last time. Little did I know that I would be the one that he would choose to be beside him holding his hand when he was actively dying. I noticed his eyes were sort of open, but they were a different color than the deep brown they had always been and they were glazed over. I called for my mom and she told me it wouldn’t be long. She was right. He passed away within minutes.

I took bereavement time off from work to attend the funeral and to process all that had happened. Trying to move forward and to create some sense of normalcy I decided to go to a little café/gift shop for breakfast that day. I ordered and ate my breakfast. Then I lingered to look at what was in the gift shop. Amanda Gorman’s book “Call Us What We Carry” caught my eye. I debated whether or not to buy it in my head. As if reading my thoughts this little old man seated at a table not far away asks if I know who that is to which I respond yes. He then asks if I am going to buy the book and I answer that I am not sure. Without skipping a beat this man pulls out $20 and places it in my hand and tells me to buy the book. He tells me he does a nice thing for someone every day and today I was the recipient of his kindness. I could’ve cried right then and there. This man didn’t know me, he didn’t know that I had just lost my Pepere, he didn’t know I was grieving, he didn’t know that I had come to this café to find some normalcy when my world had been crumbling down. The only thing this man knew was that his kindness mattered. That moment didn’t cure the grief that I was and that I still feel about the passing of my Pepere, but it sure did bring a smile to my face. I believe that my Pepere put this man in my path to show me that he was watching over me.

That day the little old man was a testament to the quote “everyone is fighting a battle we know nothing about. Be kind.” I issue that same challenge to you today. Be kind to everyone you meet. It doesn’t have to mean buying something for someone, it could be as simple as smiling at someone or opening the door for them or entering into conversation with a stranger. You’ll never know how your kindness will impact another person. Let us choose to carry kindness with us wherever we go.

*Pepere is the French word for grandfather. It is pronounced pep/ehh. Memere is the French word for grandmother. It is pronounced mem-ehh.

**Sabre cannot be directly translated but is a French expression that indicates happiness, joy, contentment. And it was always said with that disposition too.

Dear Self,

As I look back into my past actions, I realize that there were things that I should have changed. It’s interesting how so many authors, politicians, philosophers have written about ‘the past’ in relation to our present selves, but we continue to belabor the point. McCarthy states in All the Pretty Horses, that “Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real.” Without this reminder, we won’t learn the lessons that the past has taught us, but rather repeat them mindlessly as if we don’t know any better. As I recall my worst mistake, I realize today, that it could have been circumvented by simply communicating clearly. However, if you’re like me, and the problem is within the family, you omit speaking in order to be respectful and not hurt the feelings of those you love.
I’ve also learned, that when you speak your mind and express yourself concisely, you get the result you need: understanding. Without talking, how can others know how you’re feeling, or even how you’re affected by a particular event? Added to that, by discussing the problem, calmly, you get to see the different perspectives that each individual is coming from, rather than assuming you already know. I’ve learned that assuming someone’s motives for an action may be wrong, and that is what leads to greater misunderstandings and conflict.
I think that Katherine Anne Porter says it best, as she expresses it best in saying: “The past is never where you think you left it.” By that she means that with the information, maturity you had at the time, you can grasp a part of the events that occurred. However, in retrospect, having changed, become wiser through various experiences, makes your perspective of the event change with time. Here I don’t mean the actions that took place, but rather the reactions and assumptions that you had made.
I’ll sum up with my poetic version of this:

Communication is a tool
You use to oppress the pool
Of depression, that spawns from regret
Over actions taken in past event.

Couch your speech,
Make it into a delicate flower to preach
Behaviors that promote, compassion,
Understanding, love, and devotion.

Best,
Your wiser self

©️ Malak kalmoni chehab ©️

Dear Sports,

Sometimes love comes into our lives early and easily. That’s the case with you. I remember meeting you around age four or five, but it could have been even younger. I lived on a cul-de-sac, and all the kids on our street would regularly play kickball in the circle. We’d play for hours, sometimes mixing in tag or hide and seek. Without much effort, I could always keep up with the older kids. And every time I tried a new sport, it took me no time to figure it out. But it wasn’t until my parents signed me up for organized soccer with kids my age that I realized I was athletic. I was faster than everyone else. And scoring goals was easy. Immediately, I was hooked. I loved competition. And quite frankly, I loved winning.

While I played many sports throughout my childhood, soccer became my primary sport. I played on club, school, and select teams. Soccer allowed me to see the world, as I was chosen to play on a team that competed as far as Italy when I was 15 years old. Besides competition, sports introduced me to my best friends – many of whom I am still close with now.

I am forever grateful that you, sports, came into my life.

As an adult, I no longer play on competitive sports teams. And I probably don’t work out as much as I should. But you are still an essential part of my life. You shaped me into the person I am today. You, sports, taught me how to push through adversity. You showed me the power of a good and consistent work ethic. Through you, I developed tremendous confidence and mental toughness, which serves me well every single day of my life. And when I have a long week or am frustrated or scared, I can still turn to you for peace. I’ll rollerblade along the water for miles or lift at the gym.

While many loves in our life come and go, there are some rare ones that not only come early and easily but also last a lifetime.

I love you always.

Your old friend,