I felt unsafe the other day as I was getting to know someone new
He demanded to know my body count and said the number determined my value

In the same breath he stated that he his intentions were to sleep with me… but hadn’t he just made it clear that me doing so would lessen me?

The definition of audacity.
I chuckled internally at the absurdity…
I think he really thought things were going his way
That is to say, he was blinded by his conceit
His lack of self-awareness was elite.

He never even asked if the attraction was mutual
as if I didn’t have a choice, or as if hearing no was unusual.

If that wasn’t shocking enough, he added insult to injury
When I asked if he ever hit a woman and he said I only slapped her a bit you see
I believe he had some excuse for it, but to be honest, I was in disbelief

When did being woman begin to mean that we are simply objects, tools, or things.
My Spidey senses were tingling, and I knew I had to disengage
my survival senses were on overdrive as I attempted to get away

And As he was spewing his hateful rhetoric aggressively, I had already shut down mentally.
I smiled politely and said okay
I guess he thought I’d have more to say

His disappointment with my lack of quarrel was evident.
But I’m not the type to get dragged into squabbles with an irrelevant regurgitating unintelligence.

No sudden movements back away slowly and remember if cornered scream.
But All those precautions followed to a T
still can’t always protect a woman from toxic masculinity.

Women around the world face this daily
Some get a chance to survive but a lot aren’t so lucky.
I wish for a place where my sex is valued as much as any mans
and a I don’t have to feel afraid because of an appendage I lack

I just want my daughter to know
That I helped create a world safe for her to grow
That she won’t be attacked because she’s a she
Or expected to fill a role
that she doesn’t want to be

I wish for her to grow up in a world without toxic masculinity

In shadows deep where darkness danced,
A world embroiled, entranced,
A tapestry woven with crimson threads,
Of crimes committed and fears widespread.

But winds of change now sweep the land,
A shifting tide, a humble demand,
For crimes and violence to be no more,
A longing for peace at the heart’s core.

Once rampant streets, now touched by light,
A dawn breaking, banishing the night,
The echoes fade of sirens’ wail,
As hope emerges, a mighty sail.

Gone are the days of reckless feud,
Where anger and hatred tightly brewed,
In its place, compassion blooms anew,
Love’s gentle touch, a vibrant hue.

The ripples of change, a gentle cascade,
Across every city and peaceful glade,
A chorus rising, voices entwined,
Declaring unity, leaving none behind.

Communities united, hand in hand,
Building bridges, a harmonious band,
Empathy reigns, healing the soul,
As empathy’s power takes its toll.

No longer confined by walls of fear,
Where shadows whispered, danger near,
A future bright, where children play,
With dreams unburdened, each passing day.

Oh, let this poem be a testament,
To the strength within us, resolute and bent,
To shape a world where crimes decrease,
And violence transforms, finds its release.

May compassion guide our every stride,
As we rewrite the story, side by side,
For in our hearts, the power lies,
To herald change, where love defies.

So let us join, hearts intertwined,
A tapestry stitched, beautifully designed,
Where crimes and violence cease to be,
And a world of peace becomes reality.

Kindness has been hidden, everyone is so guilt ridden and full of fear. Believe in your neighbors. Reach out to someone that is struggling.Check on your friends daily. Be the example of love. In my bubble, I feel that judgement is far too common, jealousy is a curse and that negativity is contagious. Greed and power are handed out to those who abuse their privileges loudly. I would love to see a world where you are safe to speak out about your insecurity and weakness instead of the movie and make believe kind of violence and drama each day. Encourage those who are confused and help them find their way back to their truth. Help the less fortunate, but do not make it a dependable process. TEACH instead of preach. Understand that success is not measured by wealth, but by soul. The change starts with our hearts. I would love to see more education and encourage self sufficiency in learning, not just brain skills. It is true, most of us with a college education have spent thousands only to feel lost at the very end. Partner violence is huge, yet there are not enough resources to help those post abuse. I am trying to change that. Beautiful hearts are overwhelmed and overlooked often. A good deed is taken wrong or mistaken for greed. It is run by fear. The news, is never good news anymore. It only focuses on the darker parts of life. Let’s tell the world of the heros and the dreamers. The good deeds and the pure hearts. Instead of selling the darkness that feeds the depressed. I dream of communication and community instead of corruption and conspiracy.
Reach out a hand to another need. Support and listen to another’s dream. If you can help encourage anyone do that. Be a stepping stone to build another up. Not step on their heart. Believe that change is possible. Believe that we can all be the change. I’d love to see no more wars or fighting. No crime or hate. Maybe just maybe if we took a step back and opened our inner hearts we could understand better.
Fundraise to make a change for what you believe in. Speak your truth proudly without shame or blame. Believe that each of us are capable to bring about a better world in our own special ways. We can all be the change.

Day in and day out our world seems to fall darker.
Visible thunderstorms of animosity, hatred, division and war.
They brew quickly, blow rapidly, covering the surfaces of hope I became so accustomed to.
While the loudness of anger rumbles through the wind, we point fingers and scoff declarations of who is in the wrong.
Who deserves just punishment and isolation for past sins and moments of weakness.
Our fears and anxieties shoot up from the ground like poison roots attempting to choke out the seed of light embedded in us.
Afraid to show a true glimpse of ourselves, to display our authentic ways or more simply even, kindness.
Yet somehow we all dream that a random act from a stranger or friend might spur our hope .
Comforting us, a reminder that gentle compassion still exists.
When in fact, each and every day we have that ability within ourselves, to be there for someone else the way we hope they can be for us.
One small act, one show of support, one day spent serving another, acting out of a mindset that bears no judgment.
A change in reality within our own reach.
How can something so simple spur a ripple?
I’ve heard the way myself.
“You are rare, there is something different in you, when you are in your element you are magnetic.”
While these words are not the change themselves, where they stem from is.
Kindness and compassion have blossomed in my heart in a way I continue to cultivate.
To fight against the desire our world has to segregate.
For when the storm calms and the gray clouds dissipate, the light of truth cuts straight through you and I.
Our humanness reveals itself and it is magnified that we all bleed the same.
We have all cried tears of joy at the announcement of good news, felt bitter anger towards someone who wronged us.
Laughed until our sides ached and breath left our lungs.
We have all loved and hurt as humans do, so why should we expect perfection from equally imperfect people?
Yes, it is genuine connection, kindness and an open mind that I will use to change the world.
Truly, what else could drown out the poison roots than an overflow, a flood of hope bringing tall trees that offer a newfound shade of comfort and safety.

To whoever may read this,

Have you ever given much thought about plants and how they grow? I have. When I was younger I would sit myself in front of our houseplants captivated by them, observing every minuscule change that had occurred since the last time I’d sat with them. Noticing a plant that looked sickly, dotted with many brown specks and withering away I called it to my grandma’s attention. “Breathe on it,” my grandma told me. “But why” I asked. It’s good for the plants, she responded. So I sat there breathing on that plant trying to revive it with the magic power of my warm breath. I didn’t know the science behind it at the time just naively believed my breath could heal this dying plant which had once provided a pop of color in our home and had created a sense of joy in my heart.

Another time I sat in front of a sickly plant and exclaimed “Mom this plant isn’t doing well.”

“Pick the brown dry pieces off,” my mom told me.

“What is that going to do mom,” I questioned.

My mom explained to me how when a plant is not doing well the strong, healthy plants concentrate the water towards the part of the plant that is not healthy to help restore it. I though that was so beautiful. Over the years I have thought about this intricacy of how plants are designed and I’ve thought deeply about our society. During the height of the pandemic I would think about how our society was responding to the collective trauma. Divisiveness ensued and different camps were formed. Meanwhile people were hurting and afraid. I think about how I write this in the month of May which is Mental Health Awareness month and also how I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety in that very month. There are a lot of hurting people out there and they need our help. See we may not be able to serve everyone. But we can each concentrate our efforts, our kindness, our love, and our prayers on those we encounter frequently. I believe that healed people can heal people. We must be like plants reaching out to hurting people and breathing life into them. In the Catholic Church there is a saint that said “Christ has no body now but yours. No hands, no feet on earth but yours. Yours are the eyes with which He looks compassion on this world. Yours are the feet with which He walks to do good. Yours are the hands through which He blesses all the world (St. Teresa of Availa).” We can all make a difference. And I think all of us making a difference where we have been planted, lending a helping hand to those we encounter everyday can create a chain reaction. And that chain reaction can change the world.

As my closing remarks I want to share an anecdote that has struck me many times. The author G.K. Chesterton once entered a writing contest which asked the participants to answer the question “what’s wrong with the world today?” G.K. Chesterton wrote “I am,” and sent it in. While there is some truth in that, I know that we also can be the change that we want to see. Each moment that we live is a grace—as it’s a moment where we can grow in kindness. Each person we meet has dignity, worth, value, and their own unique story—we can come to know them intimately. Each breath we breathe is a gift and we can use it to breathe life into others. Each word on our lips should seek to heal with compassion–because with our words we can reawaken someones weary soul.

We can learn something from the very design of plants. Through them we learn what is necessary to grow, and what is needed to heal.

Dear stranger,

To the kind lady at Target who bent down to tie my shoe because you understood too, how hard Motherhood is. You saw me balancing a baby on one hip, all while trying to checkout and make sure my autistic two year old didn’t take off in the opposite direction ( as he so often does.)

You didn’t watch me struggle and pass me by, you didn’t ask if I needed help, you just gave it. Humbling yourself enough in front of all those people to reach down and tie my shoe. What’s ironic though, is that it humbled me. It sent me to the car in tears reminded that there are kind and authentic and genuine people in this world still.

What you saw was an exhausted and struggling Mother trying her best.
But what you didn’t see was how alone and isolated I feel most days. You didn’t see how forgotten about I so often feel in this journey of Motherhood. You couldn’t see that I was healing from childhood trauma and picking up the pieces of a little girl that never had an example of what a nurturing, protective and kind Mother looks like; and yet is trying desperately to be one herself.

You didn’t see any of those things, and yet you didn’t have to. When you bent down to tie my shoe you saw ME. You reached the part of me that has felt so dang invisible, misunderstood and forgotten about. In that small moment you SAW me, you understood and you just knew that was what I needed.

Maybe it was because you yourself were a mother and you had been there yourself before, or maybe you heard the still, small voice from God Himself whisper in your heart. Who knows, but in that moment, on the cold Target floors, under the fluorescent lights and many confused,judgmental stares, You did way more than tie my shoe, you validated me as a person, as a woman, as a mother. You made me feel seen and worth noticing and that my efforts aren’t in vain. You saw the struggle and weren’t another face in the crowd to just walk by.

So if you ever read this, please know you did so much more than tie my shoe that day.

Thank you.

Daddy taught me about greed and lust
Mommy taught me about broken trust
Sister taught me about angry hearts
Brother taught me about leaving marks
Friends taught me no one stays
Exes taught me to learn my place
Society taught me to waste the years
The world taught me about doubts and fears
How do we learn to grow and live
When we havent learned how to forgive
Don’t let the world turn you cold
We have to learn to break the mold

Dear Stranger,

While I never knew your name, I always felt I knew you. I always felt like there was something you had to teach me. I think of our encounters fondly and often. You see when I moved into my apartment I wanted a sense of community. I wanted to know my neighbors, in typical New York fashion they didn’t seem to want to know me. That is until I ran into you.

I would see you in the courtyard and quickly walk past, having been jaded and used to this as a routine with other passing by neighbors. Yet you were different. You would smile and I would smile back.

I would often see you in the early morning when I was leaving for work, it was always just us in the courtyard. I had begun to think you were a figment of my imagination, a spirit of some sort that only I could see. Sometimes my imagination goes a little wild. I pictured that you were someone here to guide me, teach me, tell me something. Maybe you had lived in the apartment and tended to this garden years before and now in your afterlife continue to do so. Or was this farmland at some point where you raised horses and chickens? That was until I saw you conversing with another neighbor of ours. One who gave me a tip on parallel parking that at the time I was very insulted by him giving me. Now I must admit I use it and think of him nearly every time I parallel park. So either we were collectively experiencing your ghost or you were real. Wait, was he a ghost too?

One of the first times we actually spoke was a beautiful spring morning. I saw you looking up at the sky. I was curious but said nothing. You stopped me; “I just love looking up through the trees, the way the sun moves through the branches is just beautiful.” I stopped and looked up with you, briefly, and moved about my day.

We had a few interactions after this one. You would comment on the beautiful weather or the way the moon lights up the sky. You would hold the door for me as I walked in from work. I once helped carry some cases of water. You, me and, parking guy would stand on the stoop and talk about how packages were being taken again. Neighborly things.

From you I learned to stop, to slow down. To look around at nature. There is so much beauty surrounding us and in so many different ways. I often stop and look up through the trees. You really do get a different perspective. The moon does light the sky so beautifully, and in a different way in each phase. This spring I noticed the first flowers peeking up from the grass, long before I ever would have years ago. I saw them grow over the weeks, something I never have seen but has always been in front of me.

From you I learned that what you’re looking for will find you if you just remain open. The community I wanted and relationships I was seeking was there all along. I had closed myself off and missed opportunities to interact with you because I had been rejected by others. I imagine you have been rejected so many times before, even by me. You taught me to be the person you want to meet.
We never even exchanged names yet you’ve impacted my life so profoundly. It makes me think about every interaction I have. How you are a part of stories you don’t even realize you are. Over the years of living there we may have exchanged 100 words. Yet in those interactions and 100 words I have learned so much. You have completely changed the way in which I view the world around me.

This morning I stopped and looked up through the tree. The cherry blossoms are starting to fall, the branches some bare and some donned with the prettiest pink flowers, illuminated by the sunlight. I stood there thinking there’s some type of metaphor here about the balance between death and life or quality vs quantity. Or maybe that’s just my imagination trying to work again. Either way it made me smile. As the sunlight came through the branches and warmed my face the thought of you and our interactions warmed my heart.

Sincerely and warmly,

A Grateful Former Neighbor