Hi my name is
Nah that’s way too formal.

Hey wassup it’s ya girl
What am I a radio personality?

Hi. I’m LaShae.

Wait. Yeah that
That feels comfortable.

Hi. I’m LaShae.
La like the note
Shae like the butter.
And I’m
. . .
Blank

God says,
I am that I am
But if I said it
Would it be blasphemous?
Even if I am?
Because I am that I am
And
I am Joy.
I am Smile.
Brittany said it was creepy
That I smiled so much
But Brittany didn’t know
I hurt the same ways she did.
She didn’t know my smile
Was as much a resistance
As it was for her to get out of bed some mornings
She didn’t know
I kept my smile because
Tracy loved my smile.
Tracy loved my smile!
She said it was the most genuine smile she’s ever seen
Which is the best compliment
Because her smile
Was the most genuine I’ve ever seen.

I am peace
Except when I am hungry
And I am always hungry
Beware of Junior’s warning
You better feed that gal;
I am gal.
As sister says,
When hungry,
I am Hulk;
I am pitbull.
Ya girl just likes to eat
But when I am fed,
I promise
I will be peace
Like Mable taught me to be
Peace:
Not the absence of violence,
But the presence of Justice.
So if no Justice
No peace.
I am starving
Pitbull for peace
Ready to Hulk smash oppression
See, Mable
Mable was a child
When Newark went up in flames
See
You don’t watch your home go ablaze
And end up staying the same
No
You arm yourself
Yes, with the whole armor of God
Like your mother taught you
But also
With a thicker skin
That none of this heat can penetrate
And with a weapon
She chose a pen
Much mightier than a sword
Her ink writing for peace
Not the absence of violence
But the presence of Justice
Her ink filled with the blood spilled in her streets
And then she would come to teach
All the little children, and yes, even me
That the power is in connections
That is what Mable taught to me.

Barbara taught me to hold my own.
Pete told me Fret Not
But Pray if you feel alone
Latierra and Ricky
Both taught me to wonder
And Serena taught me
That dancing is greater than pain
Ali taught me God will find you
Even if you’re in the dark.
I never met Maurice,
But his love is always in my heart.
Ulysses taught me always learn first
And Davey taught me to dress my best
Even when they do their worst
Ron & Vette taught me to be loud
Lisa and Al taught me love knows no bounds
Dog taught me to keep my friends close
Mo taught me that royalty
Can come from a crack that bloomed a rose
And Holis, God rest his soul,
May not be blood
But taught me what a man ought to be

I know you asked about me
But I am an unfinished story
The moral of my life
Isn’t complete
But I am that I am
And I am pieces of
Every person I ever lost
A puzzle
Amassing to one lone thought:
Love.

2922 days, 417 weeks, 96 months,
the 8 long years it’s taken for me to know you,
was this born of hate?
is that why i find myself as resentful as i am?
i could never be numb to you,
i could never be apathetic to you,
i could never feel nothing for you,

hate or love,
hate or love,
hate or love,
and i can’t understand what’s in between,

there’s a house stoic hill,
woodland lonesome edelweiss,
just as you’d like
to which i arise,
to which you descend,
i dream about when i’m in the snow,

the house lives and breathes when i could feel the grass on my feet,
i heard you sing through a window ajar,
songs of seraphina,
you are the indescribable view of beauty,

as i open the front door to let myself in i kick the glue from my boots that keep me in place,
i step into rot and decay.
i feel the candles extinguish as i walk past,
i hear the weeping angles,
i smell the cankerous taxidermy,
my hands freeze from the arctic bite of the door handle as i let myself open to discover the indescribable,
asphyxiating from my ring you wear on your neck,
bleeding from my bite on your shoulder,
pale deficient from the dying sun,
the discord that drips from the welt of monstrosity,
why won’t god keep it out my head?
vomit inducing horror i would sooner be blind than see
disgusting shape of unknowable inhumanity,
emotion formed action,
building mountains on your skin,
you moan in pain from knowledge of thyself
but was it me who clipped your wings?

Hey, you, old man.
This is a letter to yourself and from yourself.
You know all those things you’ve done wrong,
Regardless of who’s fault, or who’s right or wrong.
But this is not of that my friend…
Yeah, it’s amazing.You can call yourself friend now, but you are! ♥
I know those things I put myself and others through.
I remember the dreams and aspirations.All the good things I had for you.
Looking back is confusing and God it just makes me cry.
But I’m gonna try to leave You out too.Because this is a letter to myself. To maybe find out why.
But God I can’t, I can’t look back Because it hurts too much…
I can’t go to the beach, I can’t go to school, I can’t go to church, Sitting bereaved, I feel a fool.
But Lord, I can’t do it, I cannot watch.
Cannot go to Toledo. Cannot go to Cleveland cannot go back to jail, God what am I believing?
Cannot run to West Virginia, cannot hospital trend…
All along.I hated myself, yet all the while was a good friend. ☺
I can’t even write.I’m sorry I can’t do this.
All along my life, it was my own mark I missed.
But that’s a good thing because i’m not in hell…
Only I could see my place where ever if I made, could never get bail.
I’m sorry, no can do.
God thank you for saving me from me.

GRIEF
By. Kristina Gregson
Grief is a hard feeling to explain.
One does not truly know what to expect, until they are actually going through the pain.
The pain in the pit of your inner being.
The ache in your heart, feels like it could stop beating.
Your whole body aches with pain, leaving one feeling so drained.
Right down to the blood that flows through your veins.
A hurt, an ache, that can only be described as deep deep sorrow.
One that you know you will still have when you wake tomorrow.
The feeling of loss, the wish I would haves,
The wish I could haves, the wish I should haves,
That feeling of so much wasted time, that could have been spent with better rhythm and rhyme.
More smilies, more hugs, more laughter, more love.
More calls, more talks, maybe even a walk,
More dinners together, more special times.
That is what you wish when your loved one has ran out of time.

The devil showed up today.
Begging for me to slip.
Begging for an invite to myyy show.
Then I thought well shiit
Maybe we should make friends with not only him but our skeletons as well!
You know….the ones inside our closet
We could dance with them, learn their names, perhaps become friends!?
Then we might build the courage
to ask them to leave But at that point
We can’t ignore the demons.
Yea the ones deep inside.
In Matter of fact
Let’s invite them to coffee or even cocktails. We can discuss hard questions
liike what keeps them here!?
In the mean time we can play hide n seek with the ghosts or jahooties that like to play supernatural jokes on us!?
We can’t let them miss out on the fun
Let’s not forget the boogie man cuz you know he’s probably the most well known
and he might be the one
to call out everyone’s insecurities
Fk it we gotta call up the monsters
whether they’re hiding under our bed
or in the depths of the shadows around you.
We can maybe admit our fears or possibly conquer them by convincing ourselves we aren’t even scared in the first place.
What does a monster look like to you ?!
Is it a thing or an illusion is it human form
or animal like or maybe it’s just a concept
or a feeling?
Sounds like We gonna have a whole damn party after all these invites.
The devil himself, the skeletons, the demons, the ghosts n jahooties and the boogie man pluuuus the monsters.
Or maybe….
that’s not even a party worth hosting.
I heard of a better party
it’s thrown by joy and happiness
and their friends cheer and bliss
I bet that party has better company
we better be cautious of what invites we send out and choose wisely to what party we gonna show up to and host!!

Dear Grandpa,
It’s been 11 years snice you’ve gone. I can still remember the night being so peaceful, so still, and so cold. I remember the day we laid you to rest. The snowflakes that fell that day were the biggest ones I’ve ever seen. I wanted to be one of the few who go to carry you to your final resting place, but I watched instead as my brother, cousin, brother in law, and a few others carried you instead.

I’ll never forget when my 18th birthday rolled around and I eagerly went to the gas station and bought a can of your grizzly wintergreen chewing tobacco. I took it to you grave and had lunch with you. The sun was shining and I was happy enough even though you weren’t with me anymore.

You were my best friend. The amount of days I skipped school just to hang out with you nearly cost me my graduation. The people at school frowned upon the week I missed when you passed. Said I shouldn’t have been gone that long and that I needed to be there from then on. What was I supposed to say? Grief has no time limit and I wasn’t capable of dragging myself out of bed to go be around people who never understood me. You always did though.

I wonder what you would think of me now. Would you still be proud of me? Would you still be able to sit in silence with me and just watch the tv? Would you still be able to look me in the eyes and tell me everything was going to be ok? You were my safe place in this world and even though it has been 11 years my heart still hurts. I yearn to hear your laugh, see your smile, and feel the warmth of your hugs.

I love and miss you so much, Grandpa.

Dear Tay,

Two disclaimers about this piece before I shoot my shot: actually, three. This is not a letter to Taylor Swift, not a ploy to be your man, and I am not calling you Tay to embarrass you!

So, who am I talking about? Two people, Taylor Rooks and Joy Taylor, both of whom are Black women in sports.

When thinking of these women, I won’t lie, they are very physically attractive and some may claim that this is why they are on TV.

They recently collaborated, co-hosting their podcast called Two Personal. Rooks and Taylor do a great job at their “daily job”(talking about sports) and giving a voice to others to express themselves.

In this joint venture, the duo are unfiltered, authentically highlighting the ups and downs of being a minority, especially in the sports world where being judged for superficial characteristics is the norm.

In the first few episodes, they have discussed topics that are, well… personal.

The episodes have included subjects such as pregnancy.

The theme of each episode is not why I am attracted to it, it’s that my personal takeaway is:

No matter what sport they are covering, the leading story about Tayx2 is not about the work the women do in the sports arena, to me, they portray that being a proud Black woman is what they want people to talk about when the conversation about them starts.

I’ve stated this before: sports was a way for me to hold my emotions in, and yes, you would be pretty hard-pressed to convince me that the final seconds of a game where the 16 seed has a chance to push off the 1 seed from “the dance floor” (March Madness pun) is not more heart-throbbing than when the final rose is given out in the Bachelor series.

But the two can co-exist.

So, thank you Joy and Taylor for showing that talking about the final few seconds of the game does not have to be substituted for talking about the first few seconds of my life. They can be on the same team “dancing” together!

Much Love & Respect,

Jake April

Photo credit: Two Personal Instagram Page

I’m hot but I like it mild
Sometimes needy, labeled the wild child.
Lucid Dreamer like the Pisces I am.
Born on the only day that’s not always there….got me questioning LIFE from the day it began! Thank you.
If you do the math I equal 55.
But I failed that subject.
Words over numbers that’s where I thrive. Trouble maker Too cool for school
but finished that shit cuz I wasn’t no fool. Babies having babies so quick to be grown. Took on that roll
I still proudly chill on that thrown.
Thank you.
My reasons to grind, a whole new light.
My Pride n joys and Proof
That I can do something right! Thank you. Welcomes more lost identity.
Still Shandi but constantly morphed,
searching for real serenity.
Somedays up somedays down,
sociable emotional, ready to get devotional. Thank you.
Spread love n laughter
maybe a people pleaser.
Make plans to break plans,
but follow thru with promises.
I write to write about all these feelings just to read them at my own leisure.
If you took a test about YOU
would you pass or fail?
Do you know what make ur own boat sail?
I won’t answer my own questions…
What if everything you have been told was wrong with you is actually everything that is right? Ok here comes the rabbit hole it’s time to say good night. Thank you!

Dear You,

Never in a million years did I think I would be so connected with you, but at the same time disconnected.

The thought of ever thinking of you as a POSITIVE mainstay (I use mainstay literally), in my life is like finding a person who does not know what an iPhone is.

The bane of your existence on another person would literally freeze me.

I could not talk at the mere sight of seeing what felt like a drowning impact you had and sometimes still have, on the lives of innocent humans.

Prematurely punishing them with the ability to not talk!

This confinement… well, it just seems like the prison sentence of Jeffrey Deskovic, a man who spent 16 years innocently behind bars. A person who missed 16 years of freedom, family events, friends, and much, much more, for being wrongfully accused.

This powerful story can be read in the new book – “Unseal Your Superpowers: Letters To Inspire The Hero Within You” by Lauren Brill.
(See bottom for link to book).

So much of my life with you I let myself die inside by not behaving as my authentic self.

I was in a stranglehold with you that even the Hulk would not be strong enough to combat your grasp.

Despite you letting go of that fiercely tight grip, I have the scars to show for it.

After years of healing, the scar’s are still there. All but so faint, no amount of scar cream can make it evaporate.

The pain of you will always be there, nagging me like a tag on the back of a shirt.

I realize that tag is not meant to be ripped off or even taken off as a whole, it’s there as a reminder that sometimes a tag or label will never die, but if you don’t like it you can always use tie dye.

Despite the tag or label still there, this time, I am going to exchange it for one that fits me! Only me — the authentic me! After all, no one can be me!

So, I thank you for the lessons you have taught me, cerebral palsy. Now, I’m going to live life authentically and OWN you, tag and all!

Love your once enemy and now friend,

Jake

Here Is the link to the story mentioned above, and much more.

We are currently donating a portion of our proceeds (10%) to two charities:

Lift Our Voices, which aims to transform the American workplace, making it safer and more equitable for everyone, and Team LeGrand, a fundraising arm of the Christopher & Dana Reeve Foundation dedicated to supporting quality-of-life initiatives and treatments for spinal cord injuries.

Hello Everyone!
I’m new to The Unsealed. The site caught my eye because of the backstory and I believe the contests seem interesting. I’m a writer with a handful of poems published.
This is my first letter so I thought I’d introduce myself briefly. I am a recovering addict with some mental health issues. I also have two daughters and a grandson. I live in the house my grandparents raised me in before they passed away.
When I’m not reading or writing, I enjoy photography, swimming, hiking, listening to music, traveling to places I’ve never been and painting ceramics.
I’m also a Scorpio.