THE WATER/ THE BEACH

The place where I am most at peace is the beach . The beach is like an open alter and I’m free to roam , walk, float,gloat, and even sail the seas , because of course it’s where I belong . I can lay on the sand for hours and just look into the deep blue sky while tears fill my eye , and know that there is God who lives in the clouds and watches over me .

I lay back and listen to the waves and began to make up my own worship song . To the swish , wash, swish , wash, clink, clank, clink, clank, it’s the peace that overtakes me that allows me to cry out and give God thanks .
He placed a song inside of me and it’s the reason to why I sing !
Sooooooooooooo ……..

I SING

I visualize my writings as blood, but it is just ink. I sing to worship God. I sing to make the devil mad. I sing to please. I sing to relieve. I sing to succeed. I sing to believe. I sing to pretend that life is okay. I sing to dream. I Sing to clean. I sing to get paid. I sing to be rewarded. I sing when I’m washing dishes in the kitchen sink. I sing when I can’t get a pen and Pad to write. I sing when people cause me to see red. I sing when I’m happy. I sing when I’m sad. I sing when I’m up. I sing when I’m down. I sing with a smile. I sing with a frown. I sing at home. I sing at school. I sing at church. I sing in the pool. I sing in the bedroom. I sing in the kitchen. I sing in the den. I sing in the shower I sing to my niece. I sing to my nephew. I sing to my cousin. I sing when I can’t write. I sing in my mind when I don’t want to fight. I sing when there is Darkness. I even sing when there’s light. I sing when my nerves are just not right. I sing to keep myself from going insane and I sing when I am in serious pain. I sing to get the dead to come to life. I sing when I know God is making everything right. I sing loud. I sing Soft. I sing in the rain. I sing in the snow. I sing when I’m high. I sing when I’m low. I sing for Fortune. I sing for fame. I sing for myself. I sing in Jesus name. I sing poems. I sing stories. I sing for his Mercy. I sing for his glory. I sing while I’m being dragged in the mud. I sing every time I hear a
thud. I sing when I am in the contention. I sing when I’m in need of attention. I sing as if I’m stuck in the bubble. I sing my way out of all trouble. I sing when there is nothing else to do. I sing when I want something new. I sing to my mother. I sing to my father. I sing to my sister . I sing to my brother. I sing to my husband. I sing to my lover. I sing to them like there’s no other. I sing when I have no other choice to sit and stare and raise my voice to cherish and adore ,lifting like nothing before ,to stay on track ,and not look back ,to stay full of ambition ,and not blow up ,like a bomb boom, just to sing in the living room. I sing to please only myself not worried about anything else to make love to the song or the man of my dreams, because there is just no simple reason to why I sing. I don’t care if it’s not what you want to hear for this song is all about cheer. I am ready to unveil, for I will sing my song Like Hell, never ending fiery hot flames for I will sing until I burst every vein. I sing as if I’m stranded on an island, and I’m the last to survive !!!!!!!!!

I’ve always felt safest among the stars; away from humans, planes, trains and cars. Close to the sea: where the stars, waves, and glistening moon are all you can see. I no longer wish to be amidst the chaos, as many of which I’ve encountered have had hearts encased with frost. Maybe that’s why I find peace lying in the grass on a warm summer’s day. Face towards the sky, watching the clouds and trees as they sway. I’m not sure if it’ll always be this way, but I do know I’m done searching for love in all the wrong places: for the validation of others and in worn out spaces. These days I let people come and go as they please. Protect your peace, but don’t mess with these – the parts of me I’ve had to pick up and put back together again. Because I can’t remember a time, or place, or when, I felt as complete as I did before them… So as I put the old me, that served so well, back up on the shelf. I’ll say one final goodbye to letting others get the best parts of myself.

All my life I struggled to fit in, like a puzzle piece matched up to the wrong area. I’ve been guided to look within by angels unseen, by feelings unheard.
I have seen the greatness within me,
happy and confident. The one who has hope with every inch and spec of dust that I’m made of is spectacular. Mixed with some fairy glitter and a mind that represents the galaxy, and a heart that represents the soul. Always searching for more..
What is beyond the unknown?
For nobody knows..
There is a glimpse of hope..
At the end of that dark tunnel a light arises.
Taking you to worlds of high.
Where you need not to question but to listen.
A thump in the chest is like a head rush from a cigarette..
It’s unexplainable that we listen to the voices in our head, instead of our chest..
We are strong and powerful creatures but have caused destruction to everybody, including ourselves.
How can we make peace within?
When the world wants to fight to the death..
The answer is quite simple.
Find what drives you out of bed, what helps you pick up your head, and keep diving into the unknown within. That’s where peace lies at night.
Peace is within every breath.
Peace is in freedom.
Peace is in hope.
Peace is in the light.
Peace means equality and love,
But most of all a calm mind and spirit.
Its freedom at its highest, because a lot of times people wish to take it away from being unhappy.
Which causes a sour world and doesn’t taste as good as a lemon head does on your tongue. It’s bitter, and It’s gross and doesn’t show the love that is within.
From a soul so weary and thin.. the love collides within.
When everything is sour in life, you realize,
That little hope that is inside.
Begging to come to life.
It’s so simple, but so strange.
How we can go on living like this..
But, remember, there is always light at the end of the tunnel.

I admit I am really digging you beyond the lust attraction that we have between each other. When I first met you I was full excitement and butterflies that anticipation of leaving the lasting impression consumed my mind because I wanted you. Unexpectedly, you came into my life while I was dealing with heartbreak and past traumas that shattered my heart like a broken vase. At first I was afraid to put my true intentions of trying to find my person because of failure and these modern times of the lack of love between a man and a woman. The encouragement you gave me to do new exciting things to express myself through writing, traveling, and you value me as my authentic self got me craving more of you. I`m digging you because you force me to level up in all aspects of life and hold me accountable for my actions which is true love as I navigate the world trying to become a better version of myself. I just want to be alone with you wrapped up in your warm embrace that puts me at peace. So don`t walk away from this attraction that can lead to a unison of beautiful souls digging on each other and that`s the best part.

Dear Country Concerts,
From the moment I first went to you
Cowgirl boots rocking in the stars
Flashing lights like the northern lights
Singing along to the late nights
The late night drinks, the late night music
Us speeding along like there is no tomorrow
Time Standing Still
Living the life we dreamed of
Stomping our feet against the wind
Night Flowing like it’s never going to end
Healed hearts,
Phones disappearing like ghosts
No service, no responsibilities
Becoming one with music
The music is you
Heartfelt conversations and times
We’re all the same
We’re all the same in the moment
Swaying like astronauts in space
no gravity, no gravity

I fall into a trance… One where I live through my peaceful desires. Seeing myself drifting on the musical waves of my bass strings, croaking in harmony.

I land into another vision, one where I’m bringing peace with my fist. I train the martial art to release the heat. I take a left and a right to the jaw, slipping out of my trance. Rattle, Rattle, as I croak in harmony.

When I wake, I shake my head in disbelief… I made it. I’m back on my lily pad just drifting down stream. Take it easy Bufo!!!

Hello my love,

How fitting it was that I first met your father thousands of miles away from our overgrown backyard on the fringes of Appalachia. At his colmado — a neighborhood bodega and makeshift bar, you explained — in Villa Juana — the hood, you explained — as a raging frenzy of politically charged demonstrators flooded and throttled the streets around us. It was best to be careful this close to the election, we were told, only to later find ourselves caught in the throes of the collective and unrelenting march. Every street that was ever paved was created with the potential for such chaos, as long as humanity exists to take to them with signs, chants, shouts, shoves, and song. The neighborhood was manic and alive. Two tall stools along the countertop bar of the colmado, alongside your father and uncle, were the only refuge. That, and the beer in big bottles so cold they had frosted over white.

Hundreds of miles away, in the all-inclusive resorts that dotted the outside of the islands eastern half, conservative tourists paid top dollar to be kept far removed from the very havoc that now swirled around us. There is much that could be said about that sunny afternoon that melted into night as tall green beer bottles wrapped in soaked white paper piled up on the counter. Every once in a while, a shot of Brugal to loosen the screws around us. The clamor from the street behind us melted into the distance as the day wore on.

There was a peace that I felt in the hours that followed unlike anything I’ve felt for a while. In that moment, alongside you, young, newlywed, half-buzzed, at the climax of an adventure that had taken us to what felt like the throbbing edge of the world. Each atom around us buzzed with the vibrance of a visceral reality — far removed from the one we left behind, which now in retrospect seems so self-obsessed and comfort-prone it is stripped of most real authenticity. It was a return to the squirming, crying chaos we are all born into and are all so quickly trying to put behind us, it seems, where concerns of which toothpaste nine out of ten doctors recommend, celebrity feuds, and a flimsy freedom prevail — as long as your car note, electric bill, and the grass in your yard are all constantly minded.

And I could still feel the echoes of what we had left so far behind after your father rolled his wheelchair to the front of his corrugated steel home and began blasting the Bee Gees and Barry Manilow on a tower of front-room speakers. His story, which played out over Presidente and styrofoam cups of liquor, continued — the sicario who put him in his wheelchair for life after opening fire on a street, just like this one, thirty years ago, might be locked up in a Mexican prison somewhere. It was a conspiracy plot, not a freak tragedy. Revenge was still on the table, however improbable. The Americans have been, and continue to, pull the strings around here in ways no one can fully imagine.

Now, it was Bob Marley’s turn on the speakers. Darkness settled over the neighborhood while people who knew you, my love, as a little girl, stopped by to see the woman who had become of her. The woman I would eventually marry and see the world through pandemic and protest, deaths, both big and small, champagne-soaked celebration, and quiet nights lit only by campfire sparks. There is a peace in finding what’s worth surrendering to and fighting like hell against everything that isn’t. There is a peace in allowing the world to swirl around you, let it do what it must, its best and its worst, as you take in your fellow man. There is an ancient spark in spirited debate over a passed bottle; in a father reuniting with daughter; in the embrace of a community.

As we left the neighborhood, headed back to the center of Santo Domingo, as my sweated-through clothes stuck to my back and legs, I considered that I had been a part of something unique, holy, even for one night, and that, across the world, neighorhoods and communities, shared moments like these where people ventured from their front doors, set up some plastic chairs in the shade, shared a meal they cooked, bought a neighbor, or stranger, a drink.

It helps to be reminded of these things every once in a while.

I want to thank you, my love, for your very existence and for bearing witness to it all alongside me. There is a peace, warmth, and dazzling beauty in sharing it all.

Love,
J

There are a thousand ghosts trapped in my hometown.
They hide in every shadow and crack and beam of sunlight.
And haunt me in every breath of cold air
that turns my stomach over and rolls hot tears down my cheek.
I should never have hoped moving 40 miles North could bury them,
when all the roads still lead me back to the same place.
40 minutes to the only place I’ve ever known.
40 minutes to my mother alone in that house, visibly older each week.
When the church pews and the old school rooms and the 4 walls that you called a home start feeling like a prison,
you stop knowing where to run to,
and start running in circles and calling it a life.
When all you have is familiarity,
you forget and start to mistake it as home.
And when you stay still for that long,
you start to know the walls, and the trees, and the bends in the backroads.
And if you stay silent for long enough,
you start to hear them whisper back.
“I want to go home” stopped meaning that house.
Home meant that tiny trailer 2 miles down the road where the memories couldn’t haunt me so much.
“I want to go home” stopped meaning that house, and started being your arms.
The arms that will wrap around me every night so I don’t shake as I sleep.
That will be my home.
Even if it’s a light year away from the ghosts we left in that town.

Remembering words, sensations, and feelings
Scattered post-it notes in my brain.
Zumba, a typical Saturday morning.
I can’t live without it.

Bursting eardrums,
Dance in the back.
My bunion wincing, begging to take it slow
embracing the memory foam from my ocean blue Skechers.
Today will be great.

Dancing away from worries, insecurities, and the lows.
Being mindful and following the beat as it goes.

No longer counting 5-6-7-8.
Singing 1-2-3-4
followed by Mr.305’s signature “Dale” (Dah-lay).

No audience, just dancing for our bodies and mind.
Chorally chanting yet panting, “Manos arriba”
thrusting our arms above our heads.
This is my community.

Feeling the sweat on my back
Smiling with every step
Giggling between each body roll.
Enduring and giving it our all.

Ignoring technique
Because the best dances are those done with passion
Martha Graham is on my sticky note.

Merengue, cumbias, hip-hop, bachata,
some Bollywood dance moves take part in the fun.
Adding “sabor” to every dance, my own flavor,
Make it make sense.

The music transports me to Michoacan,
The summers with my family.
Although fading,
I feel it through the lyrics,
The instruments coming to life.
The dances clinging to diverse cultures.
The beauty of it.
A spectacle to be felt,
A fuel to the soul.

Zumba,
not just a workout but a mindset
to “gozar de la vida,”
To enjoy life.
Feeling this as I dance to La Vida es un Carnaval,
Half turns and spinning
Moving hips like dancing waters,
This is my happy place.

130 bpm 一 The steady rhythm of my breath synchronizes with my movement
140 bpm 一 I feel alive
150 bpm 一 I feel like I’m dying
160 bpm 一 I am capable of more than I think possible
And done

I come to lay on the ground to calm my breathing.
From an outsider’s perspective, I look like nothing but a corpse,
but laying in shavasana is where the magic happens.
Coming to this place of surrender where there are no expectations and the only thing to do is observe how my breathing regulates is peaceful.
This is where I come to balance.

We would not know peace without peril, ease without force, and I wouldn’t be feeling this right now if it weren’t for the intense physical activity I put my body through.
It’s the same reason why you sleep the soundest after ugly crying.
It’s our own body’s way of balancing out.

Peace is not found in stagnant stillness but in steady flow, aka breath,
It’s found in feeling a human touch massaging away the tightness your muscles have endured,
It’s the feeling of safety being in the arms of a beloved,
And the acceptance of an invitation to match its frequency.
When someone dies, we say que en paz descanse;
Our final wish for someone is that they may rest in peace.
And peace is a choice, a piece of us, a possibility.
It’s our duty to experience every feeling + emotion and peace is simply one of them.

Four lay in a bed
But only three fall asleep
Admiring where the curvature of each body meets
Idyllic is the scene
Chaotic for the ears
Felicity at last
And then nap time has passed

finding the music in the background of a bustling room;
staying in the Sun just until it starts to burn your skin;
dancing in a blue-lit room with orange nails;
flipping through a rack of vintage clothes;
meeting someone who has yet to meet themselves;
running really fast;
trying something new;
laughing;
seeing a butterfly flap its wings;
breathing through the belly;
driving while listening to house music with the windows down.

the closer i grow to myself,
the more i feel at peace
within the small moments that life presents me.

i’m at peace when i’m seemingly
disconnected with others,
but deeply connected to myself.

it isn’t the grandiose gestures such as
watching the sunset,
meditation,
or yoga classes
that bring me the most peace,
but in the moments where i enjoy and savor life.

Peace is hazy unclear untrue
A dream I had an unspoken truth
Water slip-dripping through my fingers
Wrinkled hands hunt pearls at the shore
Always grasp-gripping at nothing
Where is the peace I yearn for?

Together at last
Relief floods through
Open blinds
We made
Our own little corner
Carved it out just so
I hope you never forget
My room is your home

Watch the highway race by
Music booms on the radio
You turn to me asking:
“Where do you wanna go?”
Your words breathe youth
Bring the light of summer back again
Lying on my mattress thinking:
“Can’t wait to go out again”

Summer washes away
Yet it remains in my pocket
Carried
On clipped
Backpack keychains
Cherished
Drawings you left
In the margins
Of my notebook

Trading time like it doesn’t fade
Our lives
Intertwined
On some random day

The times we had to share
The times we chose to give

Trading pieces of ourselves before we leave
My memory of you brings me such

Peace

To: Us, Seoul
There is rarely a time in my life I feel peace. The incessant dialog on repeat in my head combined with the every evolving chaos I find myself in has always held me captive. In my car, my room, the store, the fields by my house, I am always looking over my shoulder. I have always walked on glass shards, knowing if I am not prepared, if I close my eyes for one second, they will cut me open. The first time I felt my feet on solid ground was the Summer of 2022. A place so far away from my home, yet it felt like the only home I would truly ever know. I traveled by train all the way down to the coast. I thought I saw things clearly my whole life, but it is like the passing mountains and meadows I stared at out the window was the first time I saw life in color. When I arrived at my destination, I saw a tall gray building with sleek tiles. The clouds were thick pillows of tears, waiting to soak the earth. I texted my host and asked how to get in and he must have talked to someone in the apartment because suddenly a tall, slender man came out the door and said, “Are you Brynn?”. It was a question, but it also felt like an answer. Soon, I met 4 other individuals who would be my roommates for the summer. Another man with sea glass eyes and a shy demeanor, A girl with jet black locks and a smile that said “I’m glad you’re here”. Then appeared the girl with a striking laugh and one with reddish brown hair dancing around the most delicate face I had seen. At first, I felt like I was always waiting for something else, for someone else. I could breathe, I could see, but I felt my chest tighten whenever someone spoke to me. I didn’t know what this was. I didn’t want to run, but I was afraid to stay. I guess that when you have never been still, stillness feels much like chaos. It keeps you on edge because you don’t understand why nothing is falling apart. As the days passed, I became very familiar with this feeling. The initial unease I had turned into comfort. It turned into belonging. We spent our days laughing, dancing, exploring and supporting each other through the many journeys we had embarked on outside the moments we spent together. When we ate, we always prepared each other’s plates first. When you cried, there was always a hug that followed. If you smiled, it was always returned with a promise of recognition. A promise that in this place, we could make something special. We didn’t speak the language, we were halfway across the globe, but it felt like it was the only place we’d ever known. I remember every piece of the home we shared. Not the one we physically were in, but the space that we created and enveloped us wherever we were as long as we were together. Nothing ever felt strange or out of place. I often think of all these moments that form a film in my mind’s eye. The places we saw forever on replay. We walked all over the city, finding special spots in every corner. We traveled to the coast, felt the waves grasp our hands and we talked about the lives we had left behind. I discovered that I always looked for the highest point in any building we went into. I sat by the windows, watching the lives of those outside unfold before me. I saw the mountains encircling this beautiful home we built. I saw the miles of houses and buildings that never seemed to end in any direction. It was the, and is the most beautiful thing I have ever bore witness to. I often travel back,not physically, but mentally to this place. I am sitting on a rooftop in Jongro while staring at the N. Seoul Tower. The air is thick and the sun is starting to burn my skin, but I can’t go inside. All the things I saw, and the things I did, was the most magical thing in my life. It was the most magical place. I often wonder if I will ever feel that way again. Will this place be the same? Or is this all magic because it could ever only happen once? These days, when I want to feel peace, there isn’t a place I travel to physically. I put on this film and I watched how beautiful it all was. This place is where I first started living. I see it anytime I feel lost and alone. I remember that it was real, that it was perfect. A record of our youth. I know one day I will arrive there again, open my eyes and breathe as if it is the first time. It may be different, but I know that the peace these moments gave me will inevitably find me again. Maybe in different people, in different seasons, but I know I’ll recognize its presence. A glimmer in the gaze of someone sitting across from me or a song playing over the speakers as I wait for my order. We’re inextricably tied together through memories of the past and through the visions of my future.

Sincerely yours,
B

In protected spaces, where judgments cease,
I find the solace of endless peace.
No filters, no masks, just being me,
Accepted wholly, unconditionally.

When my needs are met, and love is near,
Fed with care, asked how I fare,
In those deep inquiries, I see,
A peace that binds, that sets me free.

When my voice is heard, opinions shared,
With those who listen, who truly care,
Reciprocating this sacred space,
Peace wraps around with gentle grace.

In the freedom of my written lines,
Like calmest waves, my spirit shines,
Singing, dancing, to any tune,
My body moves, my soul in bloom.

As the sun greets me with a thousand kisses,
Thanking me for shared moments and misses,
Nature whispers, “Welcome back, friend,”
After months of rain, where droughts end.

My body thanks me for the love I give,
Patiently waiting, learning to live,
In harmony with myself, once more,
Peace finds me at my very core.

When family strives and thrives each day,
Making small changes along the way,
Working harmoniously, hand in hand,
To serve our God, our community, our land.

Pouring first into our hearts so true,
In love and effort, we find anew,
The peace that blossoms from within,
Loving properly, through thick and thin.

To know peace is to know oneself,
A treasure greater than worldly wealth,
In knowing me, in loving right,
Peace is my dawn, my guiding light

light rippled petals
rhododendron across springs
is that a heron,
way out there?
there’s a petal on its beak.
to a quiet mind
it takes flight, bringing
Her pattern to my fingers,
unison within vision
She diffuses her petals
I connect them in new space
and we reconcile
across blank and graphite page

Peace may be a place
Peace is sometimes a feeling
It can even hit me in a certain space
I had to be willing
Willing to let myself feel free
Indulge in that state of mind
There is a lot of beauty to see
To embrace that peace you are seeking to find
Sometimes, it’s the sound of waves that hit the
beach
Or the breathtaking scenery while taking a stroll along the park
I love the stars shining bright in the dark
At times, it’s a goal finally in reach
No matter where you are in your life
Seek what makes you feel at peace
I had to let go of the strife in my life
Reminding my self of the beauty around me to fill that missing piece