Celebrating the smaller pieces of greater accomplishments can seem, in word, trivial. It is not the veritable light at the end of the tunnel, nor is it the very first step in the series of events leading to great aspirations. It is a comfortable middle ground that has been treaded on, and while it can seem mundane, the progress here is vital.
I have always challenged myself to grow, whether it be academically, emotionally, mentally, or physically… the list can go on indefinitely. The fact is, I crave personal enrichment. I am currently completing my undergraduate bachelor’s degree a bit “later” in life at 42 years old. I often mentally ridicule myself for not having had a clearer professional path when I was younger. I had my three children shortly after graduating high school and therefore directed my energies into raising them into the incredible young adults that they are. It is only now that I know exactly what I want to reach for, which is a career in grant and proposal writing. It is a unique niche that allows me to flex my writing skills while helping connect clients with communities, encouraging fellowship and growth.
Reaching beyond my known capabilities, I tackled a course this semester that pushed, pulled, tripped, mocked, and rattled me. It was an art course, of which I know nothing about, and my pursuance of it was both a necessity for an elective credit and a desire for a challenge. Just to keep things spicy, factors regarding both my physical health and the mental health of one of my children spun wildly out of control amid several major assignments that were due.
My thought process was along these lines:
“How am I going to contend with all of this?” “Why did I take this course?” “WTF was I thinking, pushing beyond my comfort zone?”
I then forced myself to see more clearly and began adjusting my line of thinking:
“How can I motivate myself from within?” “How can I flip the script on this whole situation?”
What was my solution? A reward jar that I affectionately named “My Star Jar.” Yes, that is right, a wooden reward jar (typically for young children) that little wooden stars are put into to track progress for goals. However, for me, it served as a visual representation of my continued perseverance and dedication to this course. I refused to fail. Each day that I had class, I put a star in my jar. After completing an assignment, I put a star in my jar. After my finals, I put a star in my jar.
I put my final star in my jar on December 16, 2024, when my instructor submitted my final grade, and my academic nemesis had been slayed. While I received A’s in all my other courses, I earned a B in this art course, and I was content with that. I was proud of my ability to look within myself and decide what would encourage me and help me face my fears and anxieties. It did not matter that it was a system created for children. Seeing my progress build with each star gave me the sense of fulfillment that I needed.
Completing this course along with my other ones this semester was nothing special. It was not my final semester, nor my graduation date. However, it was a powerful reminder that I can carry a great deal of weight, acknowledge it, and work through it without letting it define me.

An Arduous Climb to Heavyn
by nirve carmell

To The Unsealed Community:

so
a poem about the time
i posed
on top of my world
with a giant chicken:
community
a joint within
a brick within a brick
granting sanctuary
to the uninspired
the poet
molded into the earth
of their bed.

this year i embarrassed myself a lot. i took on a job as an apprentice art installer and mason at a museum. there i dealt with folx who reminded me of all my insecurities, because they looked and acted like the people who perpetuated them originally. sifting thru my heart, i realized the ways i was stoking these flames and made it my commitment to let go.
this is the longest i’ve held a job since i broke down from mental and physical illness two years ago. i’ve been in a nasty feedback loop with depression and type 1 diabetes for a decade now. i navigated the choice of transcending perceived danger and feeling the effort of that arduous climb to heavyn

by inviting in community

brick by brick.

i had many days where i wanted to give up and didn’t
and many days where i could give in
to the ebbs and flows
of recovery
and only by the grace
of my team
of knowing i could
fail over and over again
and still come home
did i enchant myself
into tru belief.

so
the chicken.

towards the end of my program’s run, we went to the National Gallery of Art in D.C.
on the roof
in the sun
i posed
exposed before the universe
and my crew
with no defense
but my two fingers
angled into
projected peace.

but better still
was it to stand
in the back
with my eyes closed
knowing exactly who
was around me.

as the year grows old
i give thanks
for the memories
that i had an active role in creating
that i may be lucky enough
to feel again
as they flicker
thru my mind’s eye
on my way out.

From: nirve carmell

I think I feel like I wish to swim out into the sea, past the boundary of the reef. I want to let myself swim until I exhaust myself, until my legs can no longer sustain myself, and I am forced to let go and float. I float on my back being carried and washed by the waves, pure exhaustion. I let the water drift my limp body any way it wishes. Will it drift me back to shore or out into the endless infinity of the sea? The unforgiving restless ocean, rocking its constituents, unpredictable and strong. Overpowering even. With the only hope for rescue being martyred saviors, happenstance, or the fortunate flowing back to an indeterminate shore.

I wish to swim out into the sea until I can swim no longer and see where it takes me, relinquishing control over myself and my life, and letting something else decide my fate.

Under the heat of the Dominican sun I am warmed in my soul. Salty breath and steady heart beat reminds me of the quotidian truth of inner peace. Bliss and calm, the same waves beating the sands sternly as they are meant to. I am here. I am where I ought to be. At any moment I can come back to the truth of my being which is everliving presence, awareness, stillness, and breath. The breath of life.

The sea reminds me of the possibilities.
The chaos of choice, the peace of knowing.
I rescind control, for an all-loving knowing.

Sunday morning, routine coffee mug full of hot, fresh-brewed coffee out of the 15-year old mr.coffee pot we got around the same time young me decided I like to drink coffee too. we sit outside on the deck that used to be filled with toys, now filled with tables, chairs, and adult-ish things as there are no kids that live here now. I sip on the hazelnut coffee my mom brewed; she remembered my favorite flavor after the one time I said it 5 years ago. I’ll let the sip linger on my tongue, praying the moment won’t pass before I allow it to consume me. my mom and I sit in silence, I think she’s sinking into the present too. we swirl our coffee in unison, knowing it’s getting cold because we have been savoring it for far too long now. we are in no rush to enjoy this cup; I would rather it turn cold while I find new ways to enjoy the present. it’s more than just coffee.
 

THIS NOTE NOT A PART OF THE SUBMISSION… this fresh piece, written last week, was a part of a very special moment – a personal epiphany really at age 70– that “It takes courage to be Happy.” Since been written, this piece has been read in two open mics, and well received.
=========================================================================

WINTER SUNDAY

I am defying winter
the cold and snow abound
by bare feet in sandals

even tho there is blue sky
visible thru the trees now
the branches are bare of happy green leaves.

A definition for being stuck,
in a certain defiance, a something
where the observation of a particular reality
is denied, where in that moment
seeing ain’t necessarily believing,
in wondering about the Webb Space Telescope
possibly having revealed an alternate view of the universe
(?really?) maybe it is only supposition
based on quantum physics?

Cold toes brings me back to
white, snowy realism
while questioning the faith I have in my brain,

why did that happen?
When loving another brings the pain
of separation, that great divide.

Twin reservoirs harbor cold water,
thick ice on top too, this winter Sunday
the cold wind blows my grey hair,
shivering, even tho I don’t want to.
What I can’t see diminishes my vision.
I do see the large, lone grey boulder, locked
in lakeside ice. Moose stand ‘way over there
my ears are in perfect order
hearing them call, EER-UGH, from the opposite shore.

—The American moose has a universal call between both sexes, the EER-UGH utterance varies with more emphasis on the ERR “syllable” in the does, and more emphasis on the UGH syllable in the bucks. When this poem is read on public, I am using the buck “pronunciation.”

Dear Unsealers,

In May, I planted garlic. It wasn’t much—just a few cloves from my sister-in-law’s house, buried with hope beneath the soil.

I’d read that garlic sprouts in about two weeks. So, I waited. I watered. I checked that spot every day. Weeks passed, then months, and still—nothing.

My girls, kind but honest, told me to let it go. “It’s not going to grow, Mom.” And maybe they were right. Maybe I was watering empty soil, chasing something that would never bloom. But I couldn’t stop myself. I held on, stubborn as ever, because, what if?

I must have looked foolish, still tending to what looked like failure, month after month. And then, one day, I stopped. Not because I had given up entirely, but because I was tired. I hadn’t watered that spot in weeks, hadn’t checked on it either. I’d quietly moved on, carrying that little ache of disappointment with me.

But life has a funny way of surprising us.

Out of nowhere, a green sprout appeared—small, vibrant, alive. I stared at it, stunned. Against all odds, after all that time, the garlic had grown.

That moment was more than a sprout to me. It was proof that sometimes, things take longer than they “should.” Growth doesn’t always happen when or how we expect it to. Just because something looks still doesn’t mean it isn’t alive beneath the surface.

This year, that garlic taught me about faith—the quiet kind that keeps going when there’s no evidence to keep believing. It taught me about letting go, too. Sometimes we try so hard to force something to happen, but when we step back, we give it space to grow.

So here’s what I’ll remember as the year ends: miracles take time. Don’t stop believing in the things you’ve planted. Don’t stop believing in yourself. Even when the world says it’s hopeless, even when you’re tired of waiting—keep going. Because the moment you least expect it, life will break through, whispering, “See? It was happening all along.”

Forever Growing,

memories are filled with joy and with laughter even fun but the best memories are you and me
being my own very best friend

I’m so proud of you and how far you came
this rode wasn’t easy but it was worth the drive you strived so far and beyond your limits until

you became unlimited by putting your mind to do anything and everything you could possibly do and what did you do

I made sure to overcome struggles that I dealt with even if it came with a little thunder and rain but besides that the sun has to come back up and rise again

being able to get my mind together was the best thing that ever happened to me because people can’t see what you can see and be you because there’s only one me

I’m happy to have shed tears and a little bit of sadness or pain because that’s what make these memories worthy all over again

being able to be the best version of myself compares to nothing else there’s nothing like self love, confidence, happiness, and peace amongst yourself

because when you’re alone there’s no one else but your thoughts and your thinking which could be overwhelming

but when you have a best-friend in you, within yourself there’s nothing else you would need I’m so thankful self for the memories that was made between
you in me

Dear Unsealers.
My best moment of 2024 is the minute I joined this community!
The pen in my hand, it felt like the emergency chain
A force to pause and pull the halting brakes
To tether and slow a speeding freight train.
A train of thoughts and many words
Few forgotten , many told while some left unsaid.
A train of wayward, wandering feelings
Leaving deep tracks as they ran through my heavy head.
The locomotive of endless emotions
Left me feeling constantly derailed
Quick to overthink and read in between the lines
I had failed to slow down
Choosing not to stop and read the caution signs.
I needed to halt
To lessen the pace
In my passing through life
A life that I was less living and more running a race.
Now I write to slow my mind
For in my words, it is a serene stillness I find.
My words are my maps
A compass to my joys, my feelings, my fears.
My guide to navigate through the laughs and tears.
A life to be travelled in tiny fleeting minutes
And not to speed as if we were to reach a thousand years.

Dear year 2024,
What is a memory?
A moment, a mosaic, a monument in time
One thousand words worth one Instagram post slipping past your scrolls on the timeline,
It’s the point of a pen when you try to pin the second down,
pause rewind play
pause rewind.
The record is spinning and time keeps moving forward
But I was falling towards sharp rocks
Collecting pieces of life captured in screens and clocks
pause rewind play
pause rewind.
Spinning around and around
Ashes ashes we all fall down
Seven times but I stood up eight
Wielded words shaking feathers until they bore some weight
Built foundations, brick by brick
Formed mountains with writers grit and the inspiration to start a revolution,
A renaissance with the simple flick of the tip of a poets wit.
So, my dear year 2024
I hold gratitude
For planting the seed and forcing me to bloom
Rejection after rejection gave no room to do anything but come back to my center.
A moment so tender a memory so sweet,
My dear 2024,
Your memories weave the roots of my legacy.

Every day the same
Clouds and fog roll in and out
Teasing with glimpses of light
Tide ebbs and flows
Flooded then not
Steps like quicksand
Sinking

Do I want to know what day it is?
If I do, I will know
it’s one more day without you

But if I
Don’t move past the grey
Then maybe I can stand still in time
Lost in the mist
And be with you
Just an hour, a minute a second
Longer
With you.

My children have met someone
That might become their
Partner, a life partner,
Whose aim is to keep both, never alone,

To start a family of their own.
Dealing with advice, first disagreement,
First time meeting anxiety lent
Some insight into meetings flown

Off their trajectory into a NO
While others have progressed
For months, weeks, days, dressed
In meeting spaces trying to leave NO

Leaf, question unanswered before
Coming face to face, as they brace
For acceptance, liking, passion, in a pace
That drives me insane for the core

Is to build a family within ours.
How do I proceed, as the mother?
How do I let go without a bother?
How do I progress when theirs

Is a meeting of minds and hearts?
How do I accept not spoiling
Them whenever I want, coiling
My fear into a bow that never rests

For you never know if their
Choice will truly be happy or queer.

©️ Malak kalmoni chehab ©️

A thousand stars burst brightly through my sight
The future arrived with such bitter blaze
A Broken type-cast, like ghosts of the past
Hope really shouldn’t exist.

The lies of omissions echoed and boomed
The edges shrivel, and fray and decay
Ra’s fire crack’s and burst- this frail excuse
The sledgehammer didn’t help.

Pouring rain, oceans of salt, drowned those stars
As they fell with all the wishes and hopes
Magic couldn’t sew stars back to the sky
Dreams dark nightmarish things.

But at the bottom of that ocean deep
Long lost treasure; incandescent did sleep
The empty shell now with a soul and hope
Now Remembering and realizing
Forgotten- The way home

Unshackled from ideals of ‘dreams come true’
Through realities patchwork telescope
The stars shine on, and never left the sky
I can rebuild this foundation from scratch
With treasures from my past.

The best thing that happened to me this year was getting fired from my job. I had worked there for seven years and grew tired, but before I had the opportunity to quit, I was let go. I was scared and for the first time, I had no plan of what to do. After several interviews and applications, I finally got a job at a place I had always wanted to work for. I had lived in comfort and content for so many years that I never really felt the need to hope for more. Now that I am at this new job there is so much potential and options of what I can do with my life now. It is a scary experience and nerve wrecking because I have to start all over again from making strides and accomplishments. Getting fired was the best thing to ever happen to me, because it changed my perspective and allowed me to see myself in a new light. I take greater risks now and I am not afraid to be myself and put my best foot forward. Sometimes failure is just the opening door for your next success story.

After years, the day is finally here
At 22, I had started my long voyage
Not knowing what to expect, I was in fear
The road seemed endless, with long days and nights ahead
But with support behind me, they cheered for me

After years, the day is finally here
At 23, I was passing my way through classes
Being advanced, I would complete it sooner than later, dear
Between constant death, moving, heartbreak, and more
I didn’t know how to handle life’s hardships while full-time

After years, the day is finally here
At 24, things were tough, but I carried on
Letting God and Jesus guide my way, my path became clear
I worked so hard but was doing excellent
Through the tears, I toughed my way through without giving up

After years, the day is finally here
At 25, my heart and brain were extremely exhausted
My dedication and sweetness to everyone was endear
Onward and upward, a lot of growing and healing was made
Step by step, I got closer and was filled with promise and hope

After years, the day is finally here
At 26, I felt new as a new path began to unfold
While I spread my wings as my new chapter was all clear
I had support behind my back from family, friends, and my lover
On December 14th, I was filled with joy, hearing cheers, laughter, and glory

You had me just last week.
On the 24th day of September.
After a drive to grab some things,
It was a session that I could always remember.
I sit and think about our interaction.
And how it instantly pulled me back together.
For me just to go home and think about you,
It’s been raining all day and my mood now matches the weather.
Then you come back to what was once our house,
Which I now live alone in with my son and our daughters,
And I fed you while you played with our youngest as I fought my urge to kiss you,
For you to just come back to see me later on that night and take me again…
just like I was all yours, always in all ways, for you to go and leave right after.
Put me right to sleep.
I just hope this doesn’t end again in a disaster.
My love continues to grow,
I don’t know what your intention is but I’m letting you lead,
I keep saying I’m leaving it in God’s hands,
I just want our family back but I don’t know if that’s what you want it to be.
You’re keeping quiet about your feelings about me and about this.
I just want you to speak and be open.
Why are you so closed off?
Stop being hesitant and stop acting broken.
I trying not to read you,
Assumptions are always wrong.
The more I overthink,
The more it’s not going to belong.
You take every single inch of me again.
More intense each time.
Increasing the passion as my love for you does when I see you and you kiss me.
The way I know you only want me as yours and I want you as mine.
You finally confess the truth about me to me,
You’ve never stopped loving me and you keep coming back for a reason.
One of those not only being our love but also our child.
Baby I want this to work out, I don’t need this being only for a season.

There’s a core memory that stood out from all the rest.
A road trip to Tybee Island sparked my creativity when I wasn’t at my best.

Beneath the sun-kissed sky, the ocean’s rhythm lulled my soul,
As laughter danced on salty air, carefree and whole.

My heart, once shattered, found solace in the sea,
A canvas washed clean, ready for me.

A spark ignited, a fire within,
As I poured my heart out, pen to skin.

Words flowed like the tide, a healing art,
Mending my spirit, piece by piece, from the start.

With loved ones by my side, I found my way,
A beacon of hope, a brighter day.

No longer burdened, no longer alone,
A newfound strength, a heart of stone.

Quality time spent feeling free, allowed me to find peace.
Encompassed with love, wrapped in a soft, gentle fleece.

A judgment-free space where I felt safe to bare my soul.
An unforgettable day at the beach, full of stories untold.

Dear Unsealers…

I spent over 100 hours studying material I wasn’t interested in, to earn a job I knew wouldn’t be fulfilling. I began 2024 certified in life, health, property, and casualty insurance. I took the job because it was acceptable, it paid better, and it seemed like it would be less toxic than the five other jobs I had quit over the last eight years.

I was wrong.

I hated it. Each day brought me more anxiety because I knew this wasn’t where I was supposed to be. After thirteen years of hospitalizations, treatment facilities, and medications, the fog of mental illness lifted just enough for me to see that I was headed in the wrong direction. This clarity brought new challenges. In the past, I took jobs I thought I was supposed to, overworked myself, then wondered why I would get burnt out and quit without even putting my two weeks in. I didn’t want that life anymore.

I walked into my (very intimidating) boss’s office to tell her that after months of rigorous training, this wasn’t for me.

I couldn’t stand working for people who didn’t care about my well-being, who told me I was being too much or not enough, who treated me like I was replaceable yet simultaneously put so much responsibility on my shoulders. In my rebellion, I applied to become a server. I hadn’t regularly exercised in years and was not great at lifting heavy things as I have back problems, but it didn’t matter to me. I limped home after shifts, slipped into Epsom salt baths while I winced, used lidocaine patches, and ate ibuprofen like candy. This was a small price to pay for independence.

I got laid off very suddenly, with no prior discussions about my performance. Apparently hands-off management has its’ downside. I worked at another restaurant for a few months, and the same thing happened. Backed into a corner, I filed for unemployment.

I confessed to my Boomer parents (who were so excited that I got a “big girl job” at the insurance agency) that I wasn’t happy. I told them I wanted to write full-time. Mom asked, “What kind of writing?” with concern, pretending it was curiosity. She hates that I write autobiographical poetry, which is why she always says I would be “so good at fiction.” Dad says, “This may be cliché, but I do think Millennials don’t want to work as hard.” Apparently prefacing it with the fact that it sounds cliché was supposed to soften the blow.

I have always been the black sheep of the family, afraid to step out of line. Joined a sorority because Mom wanted me to. Married a man I didn’t want to, had a big wedding because it was the thing to do. Played house for a few years. Got as thin as possible. Postponed tattoos I wanted. I was always living life for someone else…for what someone else wanted me to be.

This year, I was willing to sit in the discomfort and embarrassment of not having my worth tied to my income or productivity. I went to multiple interviews and for once, I was honest. I wasn’t playing a part so they would pick me. I sat with the disgust of years of corporate abuse, systemic ableism, discrimination, and bullying I tolerated just to barely afford being alive. I turned multiple prospects down. At first, it was painful to say no. I over-apologized and gave long explanations. Trauma makes you feel like you owe everyone a piece of yourself; that you are not autonomous over your will and your body.

2024 was the year of “No.” I said no to shitty jobs that made me want to die. I said no to unhealthy family patterns of codependency and compliancy. I said no to situations and people that hurt me. I said no because it felt right. I said no, because I could. The discovering is in the declining. The moments of feeling uncomfortable, the pauses when you consider changing your mind. The grief over all the times you said yes when you felt backed into a corner. The exhaustion of self-sacrifice, the years lost to unconscious behaviors. The joy of learning to trust yourself.

There are days I become stuck in my mind, replaying stories of how lazy and worthless I am, how I am wasting time every minute that I am not job hunting or writing. I am slowly learning to combat these fictional tales that capitalism and hustle culture have drilled into me. Sometimes, I long for the days where I could compartmentalize better. I could go to work on autopilot, come home, get high, then do it all again. But those days have run out.

Thank God for that.