Stepped outside of my comfort zone
I tried something new
At first I was scared but happy it’s something new
I agree to a date, Not sure if I’m ready
It went so well I’m in love, Already?
A few years later we’re here again
we make some jokes
we play some games
we’re on a beach like we were on our first date
he asks if I’m ready
the sun has set
he takes my hand and bends to say
we were here before and I have to tell ya
He says all these beautiful things, I love him too
He says you ask how much I love you, let me show you
He pulls out a box on one knee
I smile so big, through tears, I try to see
A huge rock shinning under a light
He says will you Marry me
I say yes and squeak!
I never knew someone could ever love someone like me
Anxiety, depression, goofy, and all the odd things about me
People love my light so they cling to me
but I’ve been hurt so much from people trying to dim me
He came into my life and lit me back up
I can’t believe next year
We will become one.

In this golden age of technology and social media, there are many things I am grateful for, and others that I could go without. I love sending people funny videos, but I despise the hateful comments underneath some. I love being able to recline the seats on a Costco leather couch, but when the seats get stuck, you’re left with an incredibly awkward positioned chair that requires a skillful maneuver to sit in it. No fun. But one thing I am incredibly grateful for is the feature on my phone that will send me “1 year ago, today” memories throughout the week. I scroll through and giggle at my antics or mourn the loss of my once long hair that nearly touched my bum less than a year ago. But those little slide shows and still moments invite me to reflect.
In those pictures, I see a girl who has no idea what is in store for her yet. She likes herself but isn’t ready to spend a night out alone with herself yet, or even 10 minutes in still silence for that matter.
In meditation, I visualize myself sitting down with her. We sit on my bed in the same places I always sit in with my friends when they come over. I tell her about my favorite moment I’ve had this past year, and she starts to look worried. She’s in disbelief that she would ever be able to muster up the courage to play out this memory I’ve described. But we did it, and there is no doubt in my mind that we’d do it again.
I used to say I had horrible social anxiety. Then my explanation turned into I am an introvert. Then it changed into “but those people are probably going to be there so I can’t go”, then it turned into, “I don’t have it in me to go,”. And those are the self-fulfilling bullshit prophecies I told myself for years every time there was something that I wanted to attend. But one night I saw a flyer for a concert that was going on. I liked the bands that were going to be playing, I had been to the venue before (a small little club with blue lighting and a Neapolitan style pizza by the slice Walk-up-Window right next door), and it was a themed concert. I adore any function that has a costume mandatory dress code. I looked at the date on the flyer to see if I was free. To no avail, the concert was that evening. I instantly jumped to “Well that’s a bummer, I guess I can’t go,” and went on with my day. But I couldn’t stop thinking about how fun it sounded. So, I texted my friends one by one asking if anyone wanted to go with me. But no one was free to go since it was so last minute and on a random weeknight. So once again, I excepted my defeat and tried to get excited for another mundane night in. But something in me just wouldn’t let the idea go.
I looked at the flyer once again and read that the theme was Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Like, come on. How could I pass up the opportunity to dress like a whimsical being and dance my little butt off to some punk music. The idea of going alone made me want to throw up. This was an incredibly social scene. It’s a college town so that means everyone usually came to these things in groups of four to five people. A duo was even a little rare let alone someone standing all by themselves. The fear of perception began to wrap it hands around my throat, and I nearly muttered another pathetic, “I don’t have it in me”, but I just wasn’t buying what that prophecy was trying to sell me. So, I put together a costume with approximately an hour before I had to leave, did my makeup, ate a quick snack, and said a prayer asking for courage and safety as I left my house and made my way to the venue. My stomach churned the whole way there. I couldn’t tell if it was excitement or nerves. But as cheesy as it was, one powerful and annoyingly catchy Chaka Khan song revealed to me that what I was feeling was excitement and equal parts empowerment. “I’m Every Women”, came on and I danced in my Subaru like I had tinted windows and an MTV music video appearance. I realized that it didn’t matter what people thought about me when they saw me standing alone in the club, I was going to have fun, and I was going to grow while doing so.
It was probably the most fun concert I had ever been too. I danced so hard my skirt nearly fell down and I was 99% sure I had whiplash. I had also talked to a lot of new people that were super fun and nice. I guess when you’re alone, people are way more likely to come up and talk to you. A lot of people even admired that I had come alone, saying things like “Wow, I’d never have the guts to do that,” or “My social anxiety could never,”. It made my entire night knowing that I got a taste of true confidence, but I also inspired other girls to give it a shot. Life is too darn short to not do what you want to do, and I am way to incredible to not become my own best friend. I think that is why this was my favorite moment of the year. I was there alone and there wasn’t a minute where I felt lonely. I whole heartedly enjoyed spending that night out with myself and letting go of anyone’s perceptions or judgements.
So, I learned I don’t have social anxiety. I am just on a journey of finding my confidence. I also learned I am not an introvert. But it’s also totally okay to honor when I need a break, and my social battery has run low. And yes, the world is small. Sometimes people who don’t like you are going to be somewhere you are. But as hard as it is, I am learning to release the fear of their judgement and hate. But most importantly, my “I don’t have it in me to go,” prophesy has now turned into a conversation that goes a little something like this. “Hey body. How are you feeling. Do you feel healthy and strong enough to go to this? Do you want to go to this? Is there anything stopping you? How can I support you through that?”, and I don’t think that would’ve been the case if I hadn’t shown up for myself and took myself out dancing on that random weeknight in October.

i see the manger
By: Jim Kellogg
(The Queer Poet)
11-15-24
(a great day — seeing the manger for the “first” time)

i see the manger
through the eyes of…
the broken
shards of glass
stuck in their eyes
blood-red tears streaming down
their faces

i see the manger
through the eyes of…
the refugees
no place to call home
just like the holy family
far beyond
a strange new world

i see the manger
through the eyes of…
the queer
rainbow blood
flowing through their veins
are they a part
of the covenant

i see the manager
through the eyes of…
the abused
battered bodies
battered souls
battered spirits

i see the manger
through the eyes of…
the poor
the ones without
i was naked
i was hungry
i was sick

I see the manger
through the eyes of…
the illiterate
those who cannot
for whatever reason
closed minds
vulnerable minds

i see the manger
through the eyes of…
the “unclean”
deemed so
by the plaster prophets
and the pew warmers
hypocrites

i see the manager
through the eyes of…
the children
laughter
tears
wonder
pain

i see the manager
through the eyes of…
the words
spoken
sang
signed
left unsaid

i see the manger
through the eyes of…
the shade of gray
the in between
fresh perspectives
blended thoughts
the impolitically correct

i see the manger
through the eyes of…
the marginalized
those on the edge
no way in
no way out
trapped

i see the manager
through the eyes of…
revelation
shaking with
sadness
joy
hope

i see the manger
though the eyes of…
the mighty counselor
the son of god
the everlasting father
the prince of peace
god with us

One of the best moments of
2024 for me, was that time
I decided to open Up
And be a Lil vulnerable.
Felt nervous but comfortable.
As we sat at a table eating lunch,
I let her read my
{Broken or Broke in} poem.
Opened me up more,
Pretty soon I started reading aloud.
Feeling high in the clouds,
The feeling was “unique”.
The way she sounds when she speaks
Had me expressing more
Freely & frequently.
I just wanted to hear that
Specific frequency.
So grateful for that moment
Of vulnerability.

This year began with me lost and confused,
Ignoring God’s calls, his voice infused:
“It’s time to heal, to let go, to break free,
Release what no longer serves, and set boundaries.”

Each time I smiled at my reflection’s view,
The truth inside whispered, “I see through you.”
I kept running, avoiding his steady plea,
Until isolation season sat me down to see.

Face to face with the shadows I’d flee,
For the first time in my life, I discovered me.
No longer bound by others’ demand,
I took my healing into my own hands.

This year’s ride has been a twisting road,
A Rollercoaster of weight and soul unbowed.
Through tears, I’ve released what held me confined,
Through breath, I’ve found peace and time to realign.

A spiritual journey, a path I now tread,
2024 brought the tears that needed to be shed.
It brought me closer to truth, closer to peace,
This year, I discovered a version of me unleashed.

Dear Unsealers:

Dobar dan iz Dubrovnika!

It’s the afternoon of Friday, October 11th, 2024.

I’m walking along the city walls surrounding the old town of Dubrovnik. With each stick tap and every step, I can see more and more of the Adriatic Sea. The old town of the city is on the horizon. Red roofs as far as the eye can see.

This is the last day of a ten-day trip to Croatia. I don’t want to go back to NYC.

I’ve seen a bit of everything as we’ve moved along.

From the urban sprawl of the capital city in Zagreb. Gritty, quirky, and fiercely proud of its place in the Balkans. The shades of gray in the sky didn’t stop the sightseeing. From the Stone Gate to the Zagreb Cathedral, there are still signs of damage from the earthquake in 2020. To the Lotrščak Tower with a canon that fires every day at exactly noon. And the local delicacy, a cheese-filled pastry named Strukli complements all the pivo and lamb on offer.

A mishap happened during our tour of the Plitvice Lakes National Park. I nearly lost one of my hiking sticks in the lake but was able to recover it One step at a time, I was able to navigate the 2.5 mile hike in the rain.

As the trip moved on, the gray skies of the continent gave way to the coastal portions.

From Split and its starring role as the backdrop for Game of Thrones to departing the mainland for the island of Hvar. The moonlit skies in the harbor overlooking our hotel, with the islands of Brac and Korcula on the far horizon.

Here we are in Dubrovnik. It’s every bit as scenic as my mind thought it would be. The city walls surround the old town, tiled streets, and views of boats in the harbor leading excursions out to the other islands off the coast.

Thirty-eight of us are in this group, and I’m the only solo traveler. As in previous trips, I didn’t let that fact deter me from befriending the group. Everyone’s been so kind to me, especially our tour guide Nikoleta.

I released my first poetry book while this trip happened, “A Poetic Journey, Staying At Home” and to my wonder and amazement, everyone took a liking to me and to my poetry. In fact, there’s a bit of a surprise during the farewell dinner later this evening.

I was worried that there would be a letdown after the epic trip to Greece the year before. But thankfully, that didn’t materialize. This was a fast-paced trip, and I enjoyed every minute once I touched down in Zagreb.

I was able to forget the delayed flight to Munich from JFK and the fact that I missed my connection to Zagreb. When you have views of the Adriatic in front of you as I do, all the negativity gets pushed aside and the joy is what remains.

It’ll be tough to say zbogom Hrvatska!
But I leave Croatia in awe of this country and all of its beauty.

I hope to be back again soon, as there’s so much more to explore.

Dear Unsealers,

There’s a moment in life when things change, not just on the outside but deep within. For me, that moment wasn’t a big, dramatic event—it was more like a whisper, one that slowly grew louder until I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

I spent a lot of time trying to live up to everyone else’s expectations, thinking that if I checked all the boxes, I’d finally be happy. I wanted to protect everyone, be the best mom, wife, and person I could be, and still somehow find time for myself. But something was missing. I was disconnected from myself, from the love I wanted to feel and share.

The turning point came when I realized that the love I was searching for wasn’t out there—it was already within me. I had to learn to love myself first, to stop depending on others for validation, and to connect with my own heart and soul. It wasn’t easy, but that moment—realizing that I am enough just as I am—changed everything. I stopped chasing perfection and started living with intention. I learned that real power comes from within, and when we embrace who we truly are, we not only heal ourselves but also the people around us.

Now, every day, I try to live with that understanding: that love, kindness, and compassion are choices we make, starting with how we treat ourselves. That’s my turning point—when I realized that in order to give to others, I had to first find peace within myself.

With Love & Light,

The day approaches near, and I feel an empty space.
My thoughts are so depressing, every turn I see your face.

Our mother’s scream still lingers, through my ears and in my head.
As her words slice through the air, “Oh God Crissy Kate is dead”.

Yes, I thought she’d lost it. But I came to realize.
That she wasn’t nuts at all, I soon saw with my own eyes.

Your body lay half on the bed and I turn to take a look.
As I flipped your body over, my entire soul was shook.

Blood oozed out from your nose, your mouth frozen slight ajar.
Your eyes were rolled inside your head. How did it get this far?

You were cold and you were stiff. You were charcoal, purple, blue.
Your entire body swollen, you just didn’t look like you.

Our mother screaming “Make her breathe”, continually she would yelp.
“Oh Crissy you have to save her”. “Oh Crissy you have to help”.

I tried desperately to revive you. Though I knew it was too late.
Dear God I want my sister. Why the hell are you taking Kate?

There was no pulse or movement, as I compressed repeatedly.
My mouth upon your discolored mouth, the only breathing was from me.

Our mother asking, “is she alive”? “Crissy is she breathing yet?
You were so cold and dark, beneath my hands, I can’t forget.

I failed to make it happen. No matter how tirelessly I had tried.
I failed to make you breathe again, beyond the door, our mother cried.

At some point my movements stopped and I took this final sight.
As my sadness and the anger, just consumed me in my plight.

You were gone and I had to tell her. “Mom, I’m sorry she is dead”.
Her scream of horror ringing on, her heart breaking with what I said.

She looked up to my eyes, and said “Oh Crissy that can’t be, tell me no”.
If I could have traded my life right then, but I held her, as we let you go.

If only I could have saved you. If only there had been some way.
If only I could have filled our Mom’s request, then you’d be here today.

Instead we watched them take you. A black body bag across the floor.
Your body dead within it, as they dragged you out the door.

As if you weren’t a person, pulling you like a fleshy inhuman blotter.
Their callousness invokes me, so I scream “that’s my sister and her daughter”.

As they thumped you down the stairs, stunned, they stop to stare at me.
They look upon the body bag, and finally they begin to see.

From the ground they gently pick you up and they move you to the Hurst .
My misery all consuming, I know my rage is about to burst.

But I have to be the strong one and I have to move along.
To be there for our loving mother, to be the rock to keep her strong.

I will not ever forget that day, because a big part of me died with you.
Regardless of the years since then, this isn’t something I can get through.

I’m sorry I couldn’t fix it sometimes the memories just make me crack.
I’m sorry I couldn’t be the one, to save you and bring you back.

I miss you and I love you and I am so sorry this was your fait.
The good of you and that horrid day will always live inside me, my sister, Kate.
My Sister Kate
The day approaches near, and I feel an empty space.
My thoughts are so depressing, every turn I see your face.

Our mother’s scream still lingers, through my ears and in my head.
As her words slice through the air, “Oh God Crissy Kate is dead”.

Yes, I thought she’d lost it. But I came to realize.
That she wasn’t nuts at all, I soon saw with my own eyes.

Your body lay half on the bed and I turn to take a look.
As I flipped your body over, my entire soul was shook.

Blood oozed out from your nose, your mouth frozen slight ajar.
Your eyes were rolled inside your head. How did it get this far?

You were cold and you were stiff. You were charcoal, purple, blue.
Your entire body swollen, you just didn’t look like you.

Our mother screaming “Make her breathe”, continually she would yelp.
“Oh Crissy you have to save her”. “Oh Crissy you have to help”.

I tried desperately to revive you. Though I knew it was too late.
Dear God I want my sister. Why the hell are you taking Kate?

There was no pulse or movement, as I compressed repeatedly.
My mouth upon your discolored mouth, the only breathing was from me.

Our mother asking, “is she alive”? “Crissy is she breathing yet?
You were so cold and dark, beneath my hands, I can’t forget.

I failed to make it happen. No matter how tirelessly I had tried.
I failed to make you breathe again, beyond the door, our mother cried.

At some point my movements stopped and I took this final sight.
As my sadness and the anger, just consumed me in my plight.

You were gone and I had to tell her. “Mom, I’m sorry she is dead”.
Her scream of horror ringing on, her heart breaking with what I said.

She looked up to my eyes, and said “Oh Crissy that can’t be, tell me no”.
If I could have traded my life right then, but I held her, as we let you go.

If only I could have saved you. If only there had been some way.
If only I could have filled our Mom’s request, then you’d be here today.

Instead we watched them take you. A black body bag across the floor.
Your body dead within it, as they dragged you out the door.

As if you weren’t a person, pulling you like a fleshy inhuman blotter.
Their callousness invokes me, so I scream “that’s my sister and her daughter”.

As they thumped you down the stairs, stunned, they stop to stare at me.
They look upon the body bag, and finally they begin to see.

From the ground they gently pick you up and they move you to the Hurst .
My misery all consuming, I know my rage is about to burst.

But I have to be the strong one and I have to move along.
To be there for our loving mother, to be the rock to keep her strong.

I will not ever forget that day, because a big part of me died with you.
Regardless of the years since then, this isn’t something I can get through.

I’m sorry I couldn’t fix it sometimes the memories just make me crack.
I’m sorry I couldn’t be the one, to save you and bring you back.

I miss you and I love you and I am so sorry this was your fait.
The good of you and that horrid day will always live inside me, my sister, Kate.

For you-

I wanted to tell you about the decision that was made slowly. Made over the course of a couple semesters of sleepless nights that I filled with colors and unique faces, while smoke curled around me like infinite halos and various mediums stained my clothes. Life was a blur of coffee, shitty parking spots, endless ideas, negativity, and more coffee… and I remember constantly feeling like I was drowning.

The first couple of semesters of college were a lot like that time I visited Tim Burton’s LACMA exhibit on Halloween night. There was a collected presence of awe enveloping every person there, with hushed whispers and pointed fingers wherever you turned. You could feel a sort of beautiful artistic darkness peaking your curiosity and encouraging your creativity- just daring you to get off your ass and pick up your instrument (you know you want to). That was exactly what my first taste of college felt like. The mixture of uneasiness and excitement; a palpable admiration consistently pouring out of me. My curiosity peaked, my creativity raging, I picked up several instruments.

Artistic instruments are similar to instruments of torture. Both will cause you to marvel; both will cause you to scream. Tools that can be picked up as a result of intense passion or emotion; used to satisfy, control, release, create, and destroy. Both can be difficult, meticulous things- but some will find that they have quite a talent for it. I am not one of those people, and I learned this the hard way.

I like to say that I am an artist of mind, not of talent. The visions that I get and the ideas that my mind creates are masterpieces that I’m sure Tim Burton himself would point at and whisper about. However, when whichever instrument my right hand picks up meets the negative space, it’s as if my brain isn’t sending the correct messages to my hand, causing my brilliant vision to fall flat. I justified trying for an art degree because me “wanting it badly enough” mixed with learning and progressing through college art classes was sure to help me close the gap between me and the truly talented artists around me…right? Wrong.

I truly tried, and I gave my classes the absolute best effort I possibly could. Unfortunately, my absolute best wasn’t enough. My life was a chaotic watercolor blend; the kind that hurts your eyes if you stare at it too long. A tangle of fading friendships, betrayal, assault, experiments, and a rawness that cannot be understood unless you were there. I gave every aspect of life my very best, and continuously fell short. I was drowning in this poisonous concoction of mental health issues, social awakenings, and never being quite enough. The knowledge of not being enough ate at me quickly; attacked me, really, using instruments of torture I never thought possible.

I had to accept the fact that although I had wanted to be a professional artist since I was a small girl, and even though I was trying and practicing and learning, it still was not enough.

And just like that, I’m standing on the balcony of the art department building, blood dotting my jeans all the way through while the watercolors staining my fingers flirt with my lips as I inhale the nicotine that I don’t even really like, and release it back out into the night. I’m crying. Tears and snot awaken the dormant watercolors, leaving stains on the butt. My breath catches on an inhale of smoke, causing the toxic stick to fall while my lungs fight for air. When I’m done coughing, I’m left gasping, not enough air finding me. Things go dark for a while, and eventually I come to- sitting in the corner of the balcony clutching myself, every inch of me clammy, hair sticking to my face.

It took me a while to realize I was developing a panic disorder. It took even longer for me to fully face the fact that an art degree was something that I needed to let go of. This turning point marked the end of my adolescence, because being honest with yourself is a step toward adulthood. This step led me to begin nourishing a part of me that was always there, but sometimes forgotten. The medium that I was always naturally decent at, but didn’t always accept as art because it wasn’t as visually appealing to the eye.

Here I am, over a decade later, utilizing my chosen instrument while my hair remains out of my face and my muscles remain relaxed. And while I may never be the absolute best at it, I am certainly good enough.

Love,

Sometimes the world offers us many moments of truths. I believe small ones and then life’s cosmic baseball bat. I had just finished leaving a newer job that I thought would offer me a new start. Really starting a domino effect of leaving the apartment and in the area of my dreams. At this point in my life I was pretty oblivious to the amount of change I had put myself through, completely unaware how unhappy I was. After all I had a job, a place, an area I loved and was completely content being on my own.
As I look back I faced a choice to stay at this toxic job and put my head down, but what came out was “I guess I have to go.” To this point the only thing I had left was myself, my cat, and my car. I could hardly believe at the ripe age of 30, the one place I said I’d never go back to was my parents house. The place I felt was a house of horrors.
After being there sometime and no job offers I could feel what little spirit I had dwindle. The toxic environment I had escaped from my job was no match for the birth place of I first felt it, my childhood.
Feeling powerless I decided that even though I had gone most of my life without any medicine I would go for a thc gummy. Not the real deal, but it was enough for my depression and anxiety to be able to face the days. It really became my non prescribed medicine.
After sometime it didnt seem to effect me and things seemed manageable. I decided to meet up with an old friend to have lunch and the time we were supposed to me kept getting pushed back. So I decided Ill just eat some snacks until we get together. When we got together, finally, we smoked. Harmless seeing I thought seeing as I had taken the gummies over time. We finally got inside to eat and waiting in line I started to feel weak. What is this I thought, why do I feel off. My friend ahead of me I said Im feeling weird. Her response was ” you’ll be okay were almost to the front.” I was true, only two people ahead of us. As I stood there my eyesight went black and lost control of my body. I dropped down in space on the hard tile in the middle of the line. Knocking myself unconscious, with the strength I had left I tried to get up and stay awake.
Whisked off personally by my friend I ended up in the hospital. As I was being rolled in I could feel my consciousness coming and going from my body and has no idea if I was dying. Feeling like I was unattached to my body.
This was it, the turning point. The big cosmic baseball bat not only had I put myself in danger, but my friend who had stood by me all the days of my recovery I had traumatized. I had put any friends that had known and family through so much heartache.
Now you as the reader I have told this is the turning point, but really It was just the crescendo of the turning point. I went through a LONG period of denial and continued to do the same thing. In my house hold someone else was battling worse if not the same issues. Triggering in me the same wounds. How could I change in the environment that I felt stuck in?
How did I start without a job, oh not to mention my car stopped working so I could not leave. I decided to walk, and walk, and walk. Eventually I began to reflect, eventually I found a place away from home where I found connections, and those connections led me to church. In that church while almost allergic to being religious I found community. The community offered me support and sponsored me to get free sessions for therapy. I had a safe space finally away from home. From there it snowballed and made a new friend, a friend who had addictions and probably worse. I could tell her the truth without going into a shame spiral and she challenged me to let go along with the other support to let go. To deal with my situation head on and really empower myself to look at where I was and make smalls steps towards dealing with my deep emotions. Discovering an outlet and healthier ways to deal with the life circumstances.
I can’t say that everything is better, but I will say this is the first time in my life Ive stopped running from my past and was forced to face the truth. My past was horrifying, me going back home nothing had changed. But I have! I became a different person then the child they knew.
I’d like to encourage anyone who reads this letter if youre at a turning point, if you’re at a cross roads to get support. To connect with others you can trust, find community wherever you are and lean on them, just like the song says when you’re not strong. It ‘s the first time being independent I had to reach out and learn not everyone hurts you and can the human spirit can touch you in the darkest of places.

As seasons come, seasons go.
As spring has sprung, the rivers flow.
A new birth of a weary soul is reborn.
Yet, I sit hit with this heavy thorn.
Hoping that I can find peace and learn what I need to know.

From the pain inflicted by the white substance that tore my family apart.
I now sit here writing this poem with a broken heart.
For I once believed I had found what we all long for.
The key to peace and happiness laying behind that familiar yellow door.
But instead, I sit here expressing myself through an emotional form of art.

Picking up the pieces has been the most difficult task that I have done.
Yet, I continue to find my place in this world until the day that I am gone.
Finding my path to journey alone on this one-way street,
Is something I will continue to carve out as I stand alone on my own two feet.
And I will rise and shine, and sing until all the songs in me have been sung.

For a better tomorrow lays beyond the horizon and beyond the unknown.
For my wings will be set free and spread all on my own.
I am determined to fight the fight and create a new life with purpose and pain free.
So I can show my children what it is that they need to learn and see.
And giving them a pure love to show them that they are not alone.

Now I write to escape the reality of what it means to live in pain,
For I fight to keep my mantle free of someone else’s bloody stain,
which feels like a fight that can only be fought by those who are brave,
And I fight for me, as I am the only one I can save.
For this fight is for me to keep myself sane.
And now a new breath of fresh life has been rebirthed,
Knowing that I will never have to look at another blow of white snow.

Everyone has a past
But when the past seeps into the present
We face the repercussions & cultivate resentments
I have no direction
Unable to pinpoint what brings my life satisfaction
I’m consumed with anxiety, impatience & even aggression
When do I find that which calms me
Brings my entire existence it’s longing serenity

For I was searching, searching
A rock to ground
A hand to hold
I’m losing grip
Not a grasp on my soul
Through the motions I flow, rather fall
Attempting to prevent a downward spiral

No one to save me
The Lord is my Savior
If I sin, will He still tolerate my behavior
Mistakes forgiven, still on Earth living
If & when my purpose is fulfilled
Does my soul contract submit me to Hell
To have been high as a kite or down on bended knee
I hope He knows I’ve lived life genuinely
If to live 100 years or die tomorrow
This life had meaning because it’s He who gave me
A life absorbed by love, family, & humility
Despite the trauma & downfall
I have risen above because He’s helped me conquer all
In my lowest, weakest point I struggled to see the light
But yet I heard Him say hold on as much as I might
Entrusting in the process & willful strength was met with my own doubt
To have never seen the light
I was certain I’d end this life without

Face to face with my tower moment
My demons making their presence known
My back uncovered
My vulnerable side shown
With nothing & no one
Even rock bottom was a stranger
Mustering the strength & courage was distant but not foreign
Never would I have to summon it to this magnitude
Changing everything within me from my mindset to my habits to my attitude
Rebirthing into the person He knew I could be
He had the answers all along when the negativity refrained my vision to see

Now in my future, I see the light
Not THAT light, but happiness which knows no bounds
My worries & fears are weightless
It’s as if I’m floating off the ground
I couldn’t be where I am today
Without a little faith, grace & a daily pray

This was the point everything changed
The point where it was every wrong turn but still the right path
To have only now found He & my angels
It was me against the enemy right from the start
Attempting to reign chaos on my mind & my heart
Nonetheless do I have appreciation for the struggle yes
But now to live my life with Him in succession
I am untouchable in the most humbling sense
I am able to resonate at a higher vibration
I can now entrust that I live my life to its fullest ascension

In the hall of college, where Arms strong rested across the chairs,
Students, done with classes came to see a show with time to spare,
“Testing, Testing. Y’all know what time it is. It’s Open Mic Night!”
I was just grabbing a burger and a friend met me mid-bite.

“Last call, last call! Is there another performer?”
“Hey, don’t you write? I saw poems in your class drawer.”
I winced and said “Yeah, but I don’t know for today-”
“Hey, he wants to go! He’s the Langston Hughes of today!”

I glared at my friend, but I took my notes and read,
Emotions flared, the students froze with their phones left unread,
At the end of the words, the hall rose and cheered,
To the friend that made this night possible?…. I still glared.
This kickstarted me to write poetry,
Oh, what a new world that’s opened up for me!

Born on the beautiful island of Bermuda during a cozy December
I have been mindful of God for as long as I can remember
Raised with love in our family home
Thanks to my parents, the Spirit of God I’ve always known.

Later, living in the United States, I attended a mindful movement class
With no clue how much its impact would last
I wasn’t sure how the class would flow
But I felt drawn to it and knew I had to go.

I profoundly felt the presence of God on my exercise mat
Experiencing sacred intimacy in a way I’ll never forget
Using body, mind, soul, and spirit to connect with Him
This is where my turning point begins…

My intimacy with God this way steadily increased
Sacred, relaxing, and full of Christ-centered peace
It led me to become a movement instructor and ‘minister on the mat’
Helping others pause, consciously breathe, and soulfully connect

With God of the universe
And the Holy Spirit within
With the One who sent His son, Jesus
To forgive and erase our sins.

Blending movement with stillness along with God’s word
A new mission for me was what I heard
Guiding others to relax their shoulders and straighten their backs
While engaging their abdominals to strengthen the core
Using the physical to go spiritually deeper with God to know Him more.

This turning point became a love language between God and me
Blessing me to spiritually see
The beauty of God moving within
And that physical movement could also be a vehicle for following Him.

Rooted in this mission like a tree
God and me
We got to going
The wind was blowing…

Taking me to the training, credentials, and opportunities to teach this way
This perspective on life was a brand new day
Combining the elements of work and play
And today, I am here to say:

Speaking this embodied love language with God
Wasn’t what I initially sought
Until experiencing the process of slowing all the way down
And anchoring my feet on God’s solid ground.

Aligned like a charm
My soul felt calm
Spirit illuminated
Body and mind invigorated.

Then…

Poetic prayers eventually became a solid part of my voice
A blessed, sweet, and playful choice
Communicating with God in such a way
That He feeds me the words to write and say.

Aligning with Him as a spiritual poet
I know His voice. I know it; I know it.
A vessel of His poetry to help others and me be free
To become clear about what God has created us to be.

With that clarity, purpose beautifully unfolds
Stories of turning points are written and told
Divine connection leads us to become bold!

My boldness—A manuscript, “Rhyming with God,” was recently birthed
Pages with poetic prayers and reflections about positive worth
A publishing offer has been given to me
So, in 2025, readers will see…

My intimacy with God poetically expressed
A relationship with Jesus nurtured by holy rest
Life with the One who is the very best
Who meets us where we’re at and helps us through any test.

Whether writing or on the mat
I give God all the glory, honor, and utmost respect
Purposed by Him with roles that feel like a dream
Some days I’m so excited I could joyfully scream.

Embodied intimacy with God is of a special kind
Aligning with Him, we’ll peacefully find
Life outside of the daily grind
And restoration for the body, soul, spirit, and mind.

Thank You, God, for the lessons of many kinds
Thank You for allowing me to find
The paths to go, the ways to flow
And how to know, and know, and know—You!