Dear Sophie,

Remember when you sat on the stairs of the two-story farmhouse, head in your hands, overwhelmed with the self-imposed task of saving the world?

Guess what?

We are now 24 and the world is far from being saved. But let me tell you a story about how you got everything you thought you wanted only to find out it wasn’t what you wanted at all.

At the ripe age of 12, you decide you want to be a war correspondent journalist. You identified the gaps in the mainstream media storytelling and your compassion drove you to want to be a voice for the voiceless.

Over the years adults told you no. This is a dangerous dream and you are too pretty and dainty to go to waste in a war zone. Why would you want to endanger your life?

You ignored them.

Your dream drove you through the grueling years of high school. Like a horse drawing a carriage, you put on your blinders and kept your ears forward, focused on your long-term goal.

Flash forward to your senior year of high school. You get accepted to a myriad of journalism schools and decide on Seattle.

You walk into your first college journalism class and the professor deadpans; “So we are all here for passion and not a paycheck, right?” You smile and laugh with the rest of the class.

You learn about media systems around the world. You learn your chosen profession has a body count. Your questions are a corrupt world’s worst nightmare. You bring light to the darkness.

Arming yourself with questions, you find yourself published by 20, pulled into the harrowing world of investigative journalism.

Safe from behind your laptop, you interview and research and listen intently to your mentor as he tells you of Russian Oligarchs and Israeli Spies, lawsuits, and retaliation. You adopt a mindset that you are a justice warrior, too young to understand the consequences of leading with an ego.

You begin to understand the role of the journalist. Your job is to uncover bad news and move on to the next bad thing. You chase the darkness of the world and to your naive surprise, the world is a dark, dark place.

You cry.

You switch to cyber security and learn from professionals in the field.

You talk to them about your dreams and they remind you that at the end of the day, how are you preparing for retirement? They explain changing priorities to provide for their families.

You realize lawyers have the power to investigate and have more agency for advocacy. You tour law schools and pick up books for the LSAT.

One lawyer says; “I wish people would tell me they are in for money and not justice because justice doesn’t exist.”

You ponder if this is true. What are the risks of adopting this mindset? Is this the reality of the world?

You cry.

All this to say, Sophie, while your career will continue to change, your dream remains the same — to be a voice for the voiceless.

Hold onto the dream, but don’t be disillusioned; you are learning the resiliency it takes to be a truth seeker. The harsh reality is that if this is your calling you better toughen up.

Listen only to those who are living the life you want. Block out the rest. The world is bad but it is also good. There is nothing in absolutes. If there is injustice, there must be justice. Refuse the crab bucket mentality. Remain flexible and open. Remain an individual. Do not give up hope.

Remember; you don’t have to go global to make a difference. It starts small.
In the wise words of Gandhi — be the change you wish to see in this world.

With love,

A Dream of Magic
By Emily Thornton

As the youngest
I was given chances to test
Different sports, jobs, hobbies
My parents didn’t jest

Reading was my bread
And imagination, my peanut butter.
One thing brought it to life
The world of magic.

I am not talking little childish tokens
But large elaborate illusions.
The first rule of learning magic
Never tell how the trick was done.

My mother gave me the chance
To perform tricks at her office.
By chance a news anchor
Had come to cover the event.

A burst of courage,
A twist of fate
She invited me to perform
On the morning news!

I was elated, a youth
Such as myself
I had to create
A whole routine.

Perhaps fate decided
The best date
Fell on the morning
Of All Hallows Eve.

The crack of dawn
Where light only makes a hint
Packed up my tricks, In my too big coat
I was off to the stage.

I remember the stage
So small, but gargantuan on tv.
I shared space with the Chef
Who taught how to make tacos.

Then it was my turn,
Miked up and read to go
The camera turned on me
Colors and streamers abound.

What a fun day was had,
The anchors made me laugh
Kids at school saw me
While eating their breakfast.

Honestly, these tricks and magic
Helped keep me grounded
When my world tended to collapse
With reality and hardship.

Today when I show my sons
That magic is real
And enhance my magical life
Into a side business of tarot.
I think back on that day
And twist of fate
That made my life truly magical,
A dream made real.

Dear Unsealed,
WHEN DREAMS COME TRUE
DARE TO DREAM
Since I am almost seventy-five
I will tell you a story of my life behind my eyes.
I was one to read music magazines,
All the boy bands and whims
Of rock and roll
Blues and soul
At the incredibly youthful age of ten.
Yes, I did begin to dream to win.
I worked hard.
Played hard.
I studied hard.
It was the seventies,
Then the eighties,
Then the nineties,
I worked at the LA Times in the eighties.
End of the eighties
I was working as a makeup artist.
And let us wind down there.
You might not have time to spare,
As I have thousands of stories to tell
As deep as a wishing well.
The nineties were good,
As I was forty going on twenty-five
As it seemed to a few bees in a hive.
My first dream job was The LA Times,
But I met a man and forgot to be sublime.
My second job per say
Happened in freelance journalism and film
With my new guy
And no rhyme at that time
I worked with The American Indian Movement in the nineties.
I met john Trudell,
And that went well.
We were there to interview
For a documentary film
The Palomino Club of North Hollywood
So, I have stood
In so many good places and even on a whim.
I met Sonny Bono, the Mayor of Palm Springs at a POW WOW
So how
Did I do that you say?
That is for another day.
I joined up with Women in Film
On a whim.
The nineties came along
To sing another song
I met another guy,
A music writer by trade.
My new guy took me to a special party
In Burbank,
To a Christmas party
Really swank.
I dressed up in fancy high heel boots
To walk by my guy in his suit
My dress was a tight mini skirt and top,
And all were cream of crop.
We drove there to the valet,
Then I walked into the door with my guy
Waving at friends in high places
We were sitting at our reserved table
To wine and dine at the insatiable
CMA
Country Music Association Christmas Party
Music, dancing, food, and ‘party hardy’.
I could go on to tell you more,
But I will say later my friend
Before you get bored.
MUSIC TURNS MY WORLD!
This is a tiny burst
Of my adventures of blurs
And good times
Of rhyme
Or reason
For the season!
Love is real
It’s a deal
Of the good, the bad, the ugly
Of time spans of decades
Of love, heartache, laughter, blues
Facades
Of time
To smile at my life
The strife
At almost 75
I have written a song
From my back pages of strife of life.
My song, “I Woke up Alone”
The song
Was published on Apple
A full song on Spotify
Of life, love from above
To be a woman at 75
Alive
Still rocking & rolling
To the beat.
The publication of my song
Was to say the least
My newest job of sweet sighs
Of “I did it.”

Hi Joanne this message is or you
I’m writing this down because some things have come true
I found a love in someone who treats you as a Queen
I also know people who appreciate your dream
Your poetry has touched so many lives, many are out of sight
You are no longer being teased for being too skinny or your height
You bring joy to those around you
No more feeling isolated in a corner, and believe me it’s true
Your words fill lives and so many different pages
It’s touching everyone, in all ages
No more having people steal from you for their own personal gain
You turned into a beautiful woman and have your own personal fame
You’ve overcome so many obstacles, your blessings are pouring in
Not only do you see it in the physical sense but also from within
Your story is not over there is so much more to be said
But I had to write this quickly before I got out of my bed
Your future is very bright so don’t you dare to worry
Take your time growing up there is no need to be in a hurry

It had been months . Sometimes preplanned but mostly self invited, her visits were routine. She consistently crept into my head night after night to be my recurring dream.

But who was she?

She was openly Prolife! That’s the way she had always felt…in an apolitical kinda way. Always wearing her heart on her sleeve ,her calm,self assured,mature demeanor was intriguing to some and threatening to many.
Who does’t struggle with that pesky wont go away water weight, right??
So did she. But she owned it.
Her blemishes, her assessts, her faults, her perfections, her idiosyncrasies- they were all her’s. She took pride, protected and flaunted every inch of her being.
What surpassed her outer charm was only her inner beauty.
She was a natural nurturer and a compulsive giver. Her warmth and kindness was magnetic. Everyone wanted to spend time with her, some lusted her and many craved for a piece of her.
But where there is beauty there is also the unsuspecting beast lurking close by.

Her naivety led her to those who knew no better.
Repeatedly tortured, abused,
stripped of dignity, she was abandoned and left to perish.
Her frantic pleas for help fell on tone deaf ears.
She felt violated. Her spirit molested, her body brutalized and her core being shattered.
She had lost the will to exist.
Plunging herself into flames one day, she let the heat engulf her entire being.
Taking with her, her progeny that was impregnated in her belly.
And just like that one night she vanished.
I rubbed my eyes, and came out of my slumber. And it all made sense.
Awakened by a rude reality, finally I could see.
She was mother earth and watching her silently go each night was me , you and everybody.

So I had a dream about my wife,( the problem was I wasn’t married) I had looked continuously and came up unsuccessful, my assistant pastor, told me to quit looking and give half my cell phone bill to God and put on there GDS( GOD’S DATING SERVICE) and I did , well I decided slip and call a dating service ( my cell phone bill was a 1,000 dollars) but I met a girl from South Dakota I’m from SC, well she told me about her friend and her friend and I hit it off, we talked for 2 hours minimum every night.On August 8th we would finally meet, we spent the week together, i decided to drive her home unexpectedly in my 94 Nissan truck and I didn’t check NOTHING, I met her family and we hit it off ( AMAZING PEOPLE) Connie would move down with me and on Feb 25, 2005, we would get married.She is my best friend and my dream wasn’t fake.NEVER DOUBT GOD.

It seems like every day a dream comes true.
I get to wake up
feel the warmth of the sunshine on my skin
take my first breath of the day
lift my arms, wiggle my legs
take the biggest stretch I can
Filling my body with so much love
Every day is a dream.
It’s another chance to make someone smile
or to laugh
To feel all the bubbly emotions inside
To embrace who I am
to the fullest
Allowing myself to shine
Expressing my passion through art
or words
Sharing myself with those I love
I am living my dream
I get to wake up and be me
with no shame or judgement
and no fear of trying to be someone I’m not
This whole life is a dream
It’s a chance to explore me
The real me
The one who gets to dream

Blessings swirled and danced and wove themselves through the lives of my capable friends, but seemed so unattainable, amends unavailable, to me and my sick intents.
Most days were spent in a thick, foggy haze, plagued with the side effects from alcoholic ways.
Ever drained from manufactured chaos.
Long nights with short payoffs.
And I was cocooned, bound and corrupt, drowning in my poisoned cups.
Doomed to combust.
Further fast-tracking my funeral once I discovered the stronger drugs.
But one day, BAM, a clarity!
A lightening bolt of serenity.
It just hit me – this mystery – a jolt to rewrite my history.
A new journey to heal after a decade of trouble and tragedy.
I could really feel.
This was a miracle I was too long scared to acquiesce; that is until I became more scared of impending, ultimate death.
I had found my hope and I wanted to really live, not just cope.
But I harbored so much jealousy and envy, it pooled and boiled within me, resentments lengthy. I was bitter at social media posts, vacations and dinner toasts, and those who were joyful and friendly I saw as an enemy – such a manic psyche in frenzy, anger too plenty.
So I took a personal inventory, being fearless and thorough as a moral explorer remembering to not rest on my laurels marching forward with decorum.
Apologies were spoken, forgiveness was given, and something that was broken within me now awoken, a new beginning.
I couldn’t believe all this emotion, the cosmos burst open for me to be free to see reality, breathing sober breaths.
Many people helped pull me up and out from Hell’s deep despair depths to where I could be content simply living in the present.
The cliche’s like, “poor me, poor me, pour me another,” I’d discover, were just one of the many clever motivators to help me recover.
In time I would find on this brighter side that if I did what was advised and followed my spirit guides and applied principles learned and tried to purge the pain, then blessings would emerge and inspiration would surge to unlearn a lifetime of my survival skills that no longer served.
What was once inconceivable, an existence so unbelievable, finally made achievable, and with a lot of effort and belief I processed my trauma and grief.
I entered into a new season of mind, something divine, one of intentional design after the old me died.
And happiness and sobriety were not just a naïve fantasy, but an actual goal I could and did achieve.
Today I can say I’m proud of who I became without shame or blame and reframe my past as a gift I purely needed to unpack.
I’m thankful for the positive impact that negative experiences can refract back.
I no longer lack or feel trapped or need to distract from life’s ebb and flow because I know no matter what I undergo, even a heavy blow that can knock me low, will only bestow lessons through which I get to grow.
This meaningful life, once a dream, is now a very real thing, and at the center of my world, with clenched fists unfurled, I embrace all the love that I’ve always deserved.

Long Ago
I wrote a poem
I titled it ‘My Lovely Dream’
It spoke of tears that fell from me
After life was ripped from womb
And I was told
I would never have my life’s dream
But….
As the world shut Down
A mystery solved
Missing puzzle piece found
You were living
Growing inside of me
Tina Marie
Told so many times
A Mother – A Mommy
I would Never Be
My Sweet First Born Son
You Have Became
My Loveliest Dream

Our purpose in life isn’t random
Our dreams are made from the elements of
Our soul
Our passions
Our experiences
Our God given gifts

My dream to become a Mother has been in my bones since before I can remember
But it isn’t just biology
My dream was built on my infinite capacity for love
It was built on my naturally nurturing soul
It was built on my caring nature
And compassion I hold for all
The grit I have to persevere in hard times
And the confidence in myself to tenderly raise a human
In this world, that while beautiful, is not without cruelty and suffering
A human who could meet that world both strength
And a heart for love, too

I was in a marriage
That was akin to two puzzle pieces forcing themselves to fit
That made me feel alone, even when in the same room
And as years passed – so did our shared dream of parenthood
He no longer desired children, with me at least
Nothing crushes a soul more than a broken dream
And I questioned; how will I move past this
How will I ever be blessed enough to have a love required
To make my dream a reality

But our soul’s desires don’t fade
I managed the courage to leave
No matter how shaky I was packing those bags
And calling that lawyer
And going on dates: something I never thought I would ever do again

To my surprise
The love I’d been seeking for a decade
Was waiting all along
And the surprise of a lifetime
Turned into my dream of a lifetime
As I type this, watching my little miracle fast asleep
My sonshine will rise again this morning
The light of my dream sitting right in front of me
Will never cease to amaze me

A childish dream…
A simplistic scheme…
To be not a man but a myth, or rather a man who doesn’t exist
A silly desire that continued to persist
But as to how to pursue, I had not a clue
Until I realized, I’m the point in which two bloodlines converge
And I loved the way their names sounded when merged
Thus Donald M. Clyde was born
To hide myself, he was my mask worn
Under his guise I started to write
And as people responded, my heart was full of delight
Until I started to write under my God given name
Only to see life play a sick little game
The bitter irony of using a pseudonym…
To see people not like me, as how they loved him
And thus I’ve found myself taking up his mantle again
And see myself as a man who’s been enslaved by his pen
Just wishing that the world would know my name’s….

I’ve had my share of dreams and goals
throughout this skyward climb—
have hustled, slaved, and sold my soul
at least five thousand times—

all rocket fuel injection founts,
plans realized or not;
ascension parted clouds of doubt
for me, the astronaut.

I soared past childhood fantasy,
explored familial moons,
then looped a distant star or three—
my focus all-consumed—

in search of true enlightenment
to sate the blackest hole;
event horizon’s discontent
demanded full control—

devouring each new career,
each studied course with verve;
I never dared to interfere,
rode stardust’s shimmer surf

until my suit was frayed and dull,
my helmet webbed and chipped;
the time had come: a glowing hull
endured re-entry’s trip.

Adventures through the universe,
though shaping, took a toll;
when fragile bones touched down on Earth,
they garnered strength from scrolls—

the very scrolls I’d long outrun,
entranced by distant skies,
so sure of fate beyond the sun—
a poet in disguise.