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  • ENDLESS RANGE

    This set of mountains
    moves west, and wester still
    until they move north and south
    following the six directions.
    Their crags speak to the sky
    of the events below,
    all in the rocky languages
    poorly understood by those bound to two feet.
    Caressing the earth in moccasins,
    he, or was it she
    looks about in the craggy heights
    for a handhold
    in the pegmatite faces of canyons
    the reds and blacks in the most deeps,
    those purples of sheerness
    keeping the less adventurous at bay.
    Coming down to the valley
    below the gorges of distance barely seen
    she, or was it he, knows
    that off in the yonder reaches
    there might just be a place in that bigness,
    to drive their thoughts to.
    An abandoned two story ranch house
    sits the still, its invisible solitude
    quiet now of children’s voices.
    The hand split shingles on the roof
    still keep the weather out
    both the harsh winter snows and warm summer rains
    don’t touch the singularity of a dry interior
    as if waiting for the family to return
    from where they disappeared to, so long ago.
    That ranch house perched on the mountain side
    has the cook house and porch attached
    where a descendant has placed new tin
    over it. Then left it again.
    And there, under that
    is the place where the questions
    may have gotten answered,
    and maybe not,
    perhaps just having raised those inquiries
    into the meanings of the lives lived
    under the eaves.

    RAY WHITAKER

    Voting is open!

    Voting ends June 23, 2025 11:59pm

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    • Ray, this poem is beautiful. I can picture the mountain range and the ranch house that you described, and I see how its emptiness might lead to more questions than answers for passersby. Abandoned houses that were once homes hold forgotten memories, and sometimes it seems as if those memories are alive. Thank you for sharing this piece!

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  • WHO WINS - POEM TO MY FEAR

    Prowriting Grade: Goals 68% Improvements 67%
    It doesn’t like poems apparently,
    and that is likely a good poem in itself, once written….

    WHO WINS

    Taking a photograph
    of an empty picture frame
    arranging the ponderosa pine boards
    a wooded surround meant to be exactly right
    around the nothing inside of it
    fretting over the far off, distant speck
    that could be a house or ranch
    might be too much
    subject matter in the photo,
    everything had to be
    Just Sooo…
    or the addict would seek refuge
    in the addiction
    and the fight between the not-addicted
    vs the addicted personalities
    now stand eye to eye
    nose to nose
    the fighting almost starting
    with the addicted’s steely little eyes
    in a slanted head staring
    into the focused non-addicted eyes
    looking straight back
    that is fraught
    with an orange, determined compassion.

    There, a cute woman
    looking at me
    short upturned nose
    she was a part of something bigger
    than herself.
    She filled me, breached my stone redoubt
    wanting a respite
    even tho she pulled me towards her
    with a silken rope
    bit away from
    but towards-to
    hailing from me and returning
    to me. We were both naked
    making the intense attractions o much stronger
    and dancing some primeval waltz
    that energy exchange
    alluring in close contact moist
    nakedness bouncing, wiggling
    wild hair not covering much
    this intense attraction between us
    to bond us,
    “I am An Addiction” she says in a soft sexy, alto voice
    finger slowly motioning to come hither
    “I call to you to follow,
    participate.”

    Sometimes the addict wins
    always the non-addicted is aware
    of the hungry yearnings, the orgasmic attractions
    each incidence is an empty frame tho
    surrounding distance composed
    wether, or not,
    into a fretful awareness
    of a grey, cloudy decision
    on that perpetual blackboard,
    was that another derision?
    Or, just another carefully chalked mark
    one two three four crossed slash-mark makes five
    on the Self’s scoreboard information.
    None of it a literal depiction
    and nor is it a literary description
    this being, the Self’s realization.

    Ray Whitaker

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    • Ray, your poetry is so profound and moving. You are right that the addict seeks refuge in the addiction. It’s the only thing that can provide comfort when the rest of the world seems to be falling apart. I guess that the addict wins when they live to be consumed by the same desire another day. Thank you for sharing this poem!

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  • Lauren Brill shared a letter in the Group logo of PoetryPoetry group 5 months, 3 weeks ago

    Forgotten

    Forgotten in the hidden emotions I feel,
    Behind the weed and underneath the alcohol,

    SEEN too much,
    HEARD too much,
    KNOW TOO MUCH
    Forgot to SPEAK UP
    Because I didn’t know any better
    And because you said I didn’t need any help,

    So I’m just another “mad black woman” who can do bad all by myself because you said

    black people don’t need therapy

    I listened

    I believed you but I forgot to believe me
    I was lost because I forgot I was innocent

    Nasheshia

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  • WINTER SUNDAY

    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.”

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    • I would love to hear this poem read aloud! It is so interesting that male and female moose have different pronunciations of the same call. It seems similar to the way men and women, though mostly the same, vary significantly based on sex. I completely agree that it takes courage to be happy. Thank you for sharing this experience!

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  • GOING TO BERLIN IN 1970

    LAUREN- THE PHOTO OF THE BRICK GOES WITH THIS POEM. WHEN YOU READ IT, YOU’LL SEE WHY…

    GOING TO BERLIN IN 1970 -for Hank

    They were traveling by train
    the whole family, for Thanksgiving
    at seventeen it felt like being thirty
    courage for the i-am-strong-enough
    to face the i-don’t-know-what
    speaking German wishing-to-know-words

    even so he was in his own thoughts-
    Where does genuine live?
    Is it In amongst the realizations of the self?

    Traveling with another Colonel’s family,
    with another son of seventeen
    both in railroad overnight sleeper berths
    the Colonels had to be in uniform
    crossing Enemy Territory as it was
    the Enemy’s armed soldiers at railway stops in the dark
    warned us not to exit the cars
    if the train stopped, must have passports at the ready
    should they be demanded by the communists.

    It would take all night to get to Berlin due to the many stops
    having left the freedoms of West Germany
    fluttering on flagpoles at the border.

    It was the first time, really, that he was aware,
    like no kidding, that the suppression of men could be such
    a real thing.

    That realization never walked away again
    the sight of man’s inhumanity to man
    that persisted for the rest of his years

    this epiphany became a finely tuned crap-detector
    like gauging spoken truths for authenticity
    or assessment of mood, or rank, at a glance.

    Sometimes both revealing, and understanding, were pushed
    into override, with wisps of smoke coming out
    he had to get out, away from the despicable source

    what of the half-truths
    or the lying in the unnecessary competitions
    in foolish men’s lives.
    Sleep was a casualty of that night.
    Excitement of so many AK-47s,
    the danger slung on The Enemy’s shoulders
    during the travel to West Berlin
    so divided (one of the few walled cities left in the world)
    the Berlin Wall was a living, breathing beast
    the beast was hungry to eat those that loved freedom
    the east had walled all around the west city with
    guard towers sporting machine-guns overlooking barbed wire.

    We were free to think and speak
    our minds carrying on the traditions
    that was why our Fathers wore the uniforms.

    Yet there was Checkpoint Charlie
    a passageway out of grey oppression
    crossing over into sparkling clean air
    the point of cruel suppression, of beyond unfair dictatorship
    made by the hundreds of small white crosses
    placed to honor where the dead had been murdered

    those that had sought out of the chill, shot dead
    sometimes having dug under the wire
    perhaps hidden in the trunk of a car under blankets.

    Those sights stayed with him far into his future years
    the detector tuned to not just seeing lies
    but to detect the oranges of tyrannical narcissism

    he felt as if he had breached the walls of Mordor there
    in the east walkers dressed in darks and greys
    city streets there unkept, paint on walls peeling

    a stark contrast to the bustle of the west side
    where there were freedoms even to wear bright yellow
    should one want to, and to think unencumbered

    he sought the exploration of the Self
    ever since, gathering strength
    asking The Critical Questions, the hard Q’s
    finding his answers where they may be
    in a song, poem, or readings of the great works
    perhaps in some direct act of a caring sort
    observing when life reached that occasional pinnacle
    where truth junctured with an intensity

    combined with spontaneous, deliberate acts of kindness
    produced those moments of humanness
    that people remember and talk about for years later.

    He remembered Berlin all his life.
    His walking up to the communist wall of Checkpoint Charlie
    seeing the machine gun in the guard tower
    ranging his steps, following his direction
    (his Mother standing there wanting to scream)
    as he gently removed a loose brick
    from the wall just by The Enemy’s gate
    even the western Military Policeman directing traffic
    watched him step back away towards safety.

    Taking that red brick
    an act out of a youthful sense of invincibility
    became a brick in his own wall
    the brick was in his study even now
    holding a honored place on a shelf
    near the volumes of philosophy
    becoming a power cell in the course of his life
    a light shining into the darkness
    showing what it means to be a real human in the world.

    RAY WHITAKER

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    • Ray, this poem is so powerful and thought-provoking. I love your line about realizing that the suppression of men is a real thing. I feel like many people take our freedoms for granted, especially considering that this was not far in the past. It is so amazing that even in the midst of such strife, people find a way to show others kindness. Thank…read more

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  • Lauren Brill shared a letter in the Group logo of Magical MomentsMagical Moments group 8 months, 2 weeks ago

    This is why I believe in magic

    Dear Unsealers,

    When I was a little girl, my grandfather bounced me on his knee and sang “Three Little Fishes” as I giggled through the song. All he ever wanted was for me to feel joy in life. He died when I was 13. It was my first experience with overwhelming grief, and I was devastated. I coped by leaning into the idea that my grandfather was watching over me and cheering me on in all my pursuits.

    He used to tell me that the rain was good luck. So, whenever it rained during big moments of my life, I believed it was my grandfather signaling to me, “Don’t worry, I am here.” It rained at my high school graduation. It rained when I scored big goals in soccer. It rained when I interviewed for my dream job as a sports anchor. It poured the day I was offered that job, which happened to be my late grandfather’s birthday. It seemed like it was always raining on the most important days of my life, which only cemented my belief that my grandfather was watching out for me.

    However, on November 30, 2022, it was a clear night in Miami — not a cloud in the sky. I decided to attend a networking event for people in Miami who work in technology. There, I made eye contact with this tall, handsome man. He started talking to me, and after telling him about my company, The Unsealed, he told me that he had founded an online company when he was younger. He said his site received 20,000 organic hits daily (that’s a lot). And so, I started asking many questions — it was rapid-fire, one after the other. At some point, he stopped me and said, “Do you want to continue this conversation over tacos?” And so, we left and ate Mexican street corn and tacos on a picnic table outside a restaurant that doubles as a speakeasy.

    It didn’t take me long to realize that this man was kind, intelligent, classy, funny, and thoughtful. From that day forward, we started spending a lot of time together: dinners, events, and even weekend trips. As I opened up to him about my past and my pain, he listened closely. He asked questions, and he never judged me. One time, we were watching a movie, and I had a flashback from my sexual assault. I put the pillow over my head and asked him to change the channel quickly. He turned off the TV, and as my eyes started to well up with tears, he said, “Come here, let me hold you.” When I shared my fears and insecurities about building a company, he said, “Lauren, think of the ten smartest people you’ve ever encountered, and I promise you at least nine of them couldn’t do what you’ve done.” To this day, he always follows through when he makes a promise to me, whether it be a trip to a foreign place or to my favorite restaurant. From the beginning, he has known when I am happy, anxious, frustrated, or hungry — just by the look on my face — and has responded accordingly. He is so in tune with who I am and how I feel that it seems as though my peace is his priority.

    Even so, early in our relationship, I was afraid to trust the authenticity of his love. I had been disappointed so many times in love and relationships, and I was on edge, just waiting for the shoe to drop — just waiting for something to go wrong. I couldn’t live in the moment as I was too afraid it would soon end. One night, he was on his computer while I was resting on his couch, and I randomly asked him what his name meant in his culture. He was in the middle of working and responded, “I don’t know — something with water.” So I googled it. His name translates as “the God of rain.”

    In disbelief, that was the moment I began to let myself love and be loved. That was the moment I started to trust my partner and the universe. It was the reassurance I needed to know I was safe. About a year later, he proposed to me on the boardwalk at Disney World. We are getting married in a few months, and I am so excited. Falling in love has enriched my life and made the present moment so special, so much so that it has made me believe that magic exists in all of our lives.
    For years, the rain was a way for me to stay connected to the joy my grandfather brought me, but now, it’s what allowed me to embrace the joy right before me.

    With immense hope and gratitude,

    Lauren

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    • A beautiful story! Many rainy days ahead are wished for you {{{{Lauren}}}}.

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    • Oh my heart! This might be the most beautiful love story I’ve ever heard. I’m so happy you found someone who is such a safe place for you. This is the new standard I want to teach my daughter!! One of my favorite songs is “Your Hideaway” by Josh Groban. If you haven’t heard it give it a listen ❤️

      P.S. I love making playlists for people (music is…read more

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      • Thank you for sharing your truth Lauren. I find it so inspiring to acknowledge the magic in our lives. Hearing how others are touched only reinforces magic itself. e hā`ule ka ua i kou pu`uwai me ka ha`alele `ole
        Is Hawaiian May the rain fall upon your heart without abandon

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      • @alyssa I just went and listened to the song. I love it. Thank you so much for the kind words and for cheering on my joy. I love that you are teaching your daughter to set the bar high. Sendings hugs. <3 Lauren

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    • Oh my gosh! This made me cry it’s so sweet. I truly believe you will always have your grandfather watching over you and he found your fiance before you did! You are amazing and I’m so happy you are able to embrace that joy and trust. You deserve the world. Congratulations on the engagement. 💜💜

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      • Aww thank you so much. I believe that too and YOU ARE AMAZING. You are so filled with love and kindness and it makes me feel so happy! Thank you for being a light in this world and thanks for the congrats! <3 Lauren

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    • Lauren, I loved your story!!! It is a beautiful love story. I am so glad you get to experience that:) My daughter and I both was brought to tears of how sweet and wonderful that story was. I wish you blessings on blessings on your continuous life of love!!!

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    • This story gave me the sweetest happy tears and like the good warm goosebumps! I’m such a believer in signs from our loved ones on the other side ❤️ so beautiful! Congratulations and wishing you both a lifetime of happiness!

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  • I DON’t HAVE PTSD

    I DON’T HAVE PTSD
    [in Southernspeak]

    When I wake up in the mornin’
    most any day
    everything isn’t broken
    lying about in ashen heaps, the smell
    his buddies dead or dyin’
    one smokin’ wheel of the sideways chopper still turnin’.

    I can have
    an already-always appreciation
    of a new day. Most any mornin’
    rain, or sun peering at me
    there’s blue sky in between the clouds
    and the coffee is good.

    I don’t have to clean up empties
    or wipe up dog poo cause I didn’t let it out
    in time
    that time of not bein’ to forget, all encompassing.

    My good friend has it tho
    and it never fully leaves him
    the self recrimination either
    whar forgiveness ain’t
    nor the compassion jus’ be missin’
    he fight this time an’ next for the clear blue.

    My friend has seen mor’ o’ the dyin’
    than I will ever
    even after a career of hospital intensive care work
    where my role in it were to stop tha’ dying.
    His was to cause it, that ther’ black
    when we look each other in tha’ eye, we know.

    Ray Whitaker

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    • The way you can see your friend’s perspective and have so much empathy for him is so beautiful. You have such a kind and soft heart. Thank you for sharing and thank you for being part of The Unsealed family. <3 Lauren

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  • CONTEST SUBMISSION: FAVORITE DAYS 2023: POEM: BLACK MOOSE

    The following poem is my entry to the contest… as well as being a poem about an experience with a moos in the wilds of Colorado. Being camped near Monarch Pass [elevation 11.350 ft), maybe a couple thousand feet lower on the banks of the North fork of the Arkansas River in June of 2023. I trust that you’ll enjoy the piece, and leave me a comment or two! Respectfully submitted, Ray Whitaker

    BLACK MOOSE

    It resonates with me
    my encounter with another mysticism of nature
    at the edge of the mountain glen.
    While chancing to be near it
    the large, black mass standing stationary in the aspens
    as if to be unnoticed by being still

    a bull moose eating leaves from above it’s head
    a thin line of silver fur
    going from mighty shoulder to mid back
    young antlers soon to be a fierce armament
    now in velvet, growing
    as if to scoop up the world.

    Moving closer
    keeping a mature pine betwixt
    the likely over a thousand pounds of magnificence
    and my wonder

    thus occupied I did not worry
    when he stopped eating
    looking in my direction
    standing there wondering about me perhaps
    as he stood in the dappled sunlight.
    Astonished at the proximity
    noticing the depth of these brown eyes
    pushing souls together, mine to his
    brown, mine, to brown, his
    iris’ different, mine round, his oval

    being in the moment of no thought
    now wondering if he had a name
    no feeling of fear in that closeness
    only around twenty paces separating us
    the sun shone on me as I looked
    and as if I felt that regal power-black fur
    a strength, assurance, commanding the ground
    he stood on, like owning the very earth.

    He is next to my tree now
    having moved so silently
    and keeping the thick pine between us,
    our eyes locked still
    getting what each other had to give
    my consciousness mingling
    with the being of this immense creature
    his long neck craning around, reaching nearly in my space.

    I moved away, breaking the mesh
    keeping the pine tree between we two
    having realized this tree
    was woefully small
    having become a wood beetle now uncovered under the bark
    I retreated to the next few tall pines nearby.

    I am the Rhinoceros Beetle now.

    Our conversation had not ended
    tho no words had been spoken out loud
    no malice felt, only a near wistfulness
    from the moose and I.

    Like a translator would be appreciated
    to move the instances together somehow

    staring into each other’s eyes
    for longer still
    feeling the thoughts
    each having our own insights
    of consciousness
    and intuitiveness

    that powerful rippling muscled black now moving away
    my humanness moved in this moment.

    Even wanting to know where all this would go
    I did not follow deeper into this thicket, his woods.

    Ray Whitaker

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  • Ray Whitaker shared a letter in the Group logo of Magical MomentsMagical Moments group 1 years, 6 months ago

    poem: NO LIGHT

    Oh-three-thirty
    the “am” is implied
    it can be considered (in military speak)
    as zero-dark-thirty
    either way, wakefulness is present
    outside the sleeping bag cover in camp.

    Yeah, still dark outside
    my hound and I go out
    and the in the darkness
    all one has to do is look
    up. There is the splendor
    of the night sky, clear, starry, unobscured.

    Funny how neither of us even thought
    about the night critters that may be about
    he relying on my presence for safety
    my reliance on him for his superior night vision
    and sense of smell to warn.

    What pictures are there painted in the dark
    with steadying brush in hand, trying not to drip
    dusky colors off the palette?

    Looking up, at the show of night sky
    there is no admission, save wakefulness
    the theater is quiet, as if in anticipation
    of the drawing back that thick purple curtain
    still no noises, the dark is silent.

    My eyes only see the the vision of the stars
    that I am native to see
    over the treetops to the left
    are such bright pinpoints
    close together enough to be a cluster, perhaps
    one must be a planet, intense light from there
    I shall have to find out which
    still I realize that the visions
    from the Webb space telescope
    are far more lustrous, clearer.

    Returning to the tent
    the hot coffee is waiting
    mist curling up off the coffeepot spout
    like some close up nebulae in the cool morn.

    I am full of wonder
    not sleep, that was a thing of an hour ago

    awaiting the sunrise,
    and its chase of the darkness into the distant west.

    Poem copyrighted 2023, Ray Whitaker

    Ray Whitaker

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  • MORNING EXERCISES

    MORNING EXERCISES

    I

    I write to the world this day
    to sense the wonder
    asking it to remember the chances
    of it’s beauty.

    In writing to the world this day
    it is the joy of simply Being
    of participating with your God
    in bringing the depth of a springtime thaw.

    The snowmelt engorges the stream
    a long male member pushing down

    the meadow below awakens with it
    there is a newness to the banks
    with the stimulated green
    coming from deposits of a fertile brown, fine alluvium

    beavers repair their woven dams
    spreading water over stream banks
    the long winter’s nights have given work to them
    see them smile as they cut new limbs to weave

    the farmer looks back on the newly plowed field
    satisfied that the new shoots
    will raise their green heads
    towards the sun.

    The poets write to give
    a sense of the wonders
    the beauty of broken winter
    the people rely on us to do so
    to remind them that their paths
    aren’t necessarily muddy.

    If even for only a few moments
    the readers and listeners to the words
    that even the mighty oaks
    grow new leaves to shade us.

    II

    Forget what justifications as there may be
    giving a elusive credence
    to the crimes against humanity
    the narcissistic despots propagate

    the killing
    the dying
    an un-natural cycle created by constructs
    of pursuing wealth above the spirit.

    Stepping over the pollution
    of plastic washed up on our ocean shores
    ignoring the warning barks of our dog brothers
    telling us to beware

    we are all animals, children on our solid continents
    unheard are the cries
    from a wounded Mother Earth
    that is rebelling against the wounding.

    It is the lance from the picadors
    bleeding red drops to the arena ground.

    III

    I write to the world this day
    to again feel warm wonder
    asking it to bring forth the new growth
    of it’s beauty.

    In writing to the world this day
    to the joy of simply Being in tune
    with your God’s sent purpose
    in bringing growth to this spring’s thaw

    touch the sprouts emerging
    see the little yellow birds
    on the tree limbs happily in the white flowers there
    feel the smiling warmth of your dog brother

    have seeds of wonder grow
    in your place, from the ground of what is possible.

    We poets write to give away strength
    sourcing the pictures of their universal wonders
    the people rely on us to do so
    showing the beauty in the winter breaking
    to remind them that their paths
    aren’t necessarily rocky

    focus on what color your beauty is
    and that warmth from a bright and gentle sun.

    Poem copyrighted 07/2023, Ray Whitaker

    Ray Whitaker

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    • Ray,

      I love how you ended this piece:

      “We poets write to give away strength
      sourcing the pictures of their universal wonders
      the people rely on us to do so
      showing the beauty in the winter breaking
      to remind them that their paths
      aren’t necessarily rocky

      focus on what color your beauty is
      and that warmth from a bright and gentle sun.

      So b…read more

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  • Lauren Brill shared a letter in the Group logo of Current EventsCurrent Events group 1 years, 8 months ago

    I am scared and heartbroken

    Last night, I didn’t sleep well, as I had several nightmares. I was haunted by the endless images I saw in the news: A young woman’s naked, lifeless, unconscious (possibly deceased) body being paraded around as a trophy after Hamas attacked young people at a music festival in Israel, a 25-year-old woman begging for her life as she was taken as a hostage and babies whose faces were covered in dust and blood from the bombs thrown near their homes.

    When I awoke this morning, I immediately read the news to see the latest. And while the horror continues on the other side of the world, I was also disheartened to learn that hate was just outside my doorstep.

    People at rallies down the street from where I slept last night are wearing, holding, and celebrating images of swastikas and promoting anti-semitic rhetoric. For the first time in my life, I was and am scared to be Jewish.

    While I have been doing my best to educate myself through the news, friends, and online resources, I am not going to sit here and pretend I fully understand the conflict between Palestine and Israel – because I don’t. And I know that it’s natural and easy to see the world through the lens of my own experiences and identity.

    However, we all, myself included, should see and feel our humanity reflected in every person on this planet. And act accordingly.

    As I try to process these last few days, the violence happening in the Middle East is not just about me, or any one group of people or politics. This cruel attack on innocent people is about all of us. It is a threat to all of humanity.

    No child, no person, whether they share my background or not, whether Palestinian or Israeli (or any other culture, race, or religion), deserves to live or die in such an inhumane way.

    There are a lot of issues we can’t and won’t agree on in this world. But we universally should believe in and tirelessly advocate for love, compassion, and peace for all people.

    And sadly, right now, that’s not the case.

    I am scared and heartbroken as I pray for the victims of violence, our world, and humanity.

    Lauren

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    • I’m at a loss for words to describe the depths of evil for these murders of innocent people. I can’t comprehend humans committing these acts against other humans. Why with all the prayers that happen worldwide daily do things like this even happen? Please stay safe from these protests and God help the Middle East with everything you have.

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  • My first cover letter

    Dear Mr. —

    Did you know the NFL’s Ryan Grant also participated in basketball and track and field during his time at Don Bosco Prep School in New Jersey? Did you know the NBA’s Adonal Foyle still holds the record in New York for most points in a high school tournament game? Did you know former Suffern High School girls’ lacrosse star Crysti Foote is a member of the Canadian National Team and is recognized as one of the best female players in the world? Inspired by the commitment and passion all great athletes demonstrate, I know both the technicalities of sports and interesting facts about the athletes themselves, which is why I believe if I become a reporter for MSG Varsity I will be a powerful conduit between the athletes and the tri-state community. I will ask questions the viewers want to know and receive honest answers from athletes who respect my knowledge.

    My confidence in my future success is based on the achievements of my past as well as my present occupation. As a young 21-year-old college graduate, I began writing for NBA.com and WNBA.com. With my own swagger, I entered NBA and WNBA locker rooms to interview athletes double my size among journalists twice my age. Publishing hundreds of articles and blogs on NBA.com, WNBA.com, D-league.com, NikeWomen.com, and WomensProSoccer.com, I have also had my fair share of on-air opportunities. Currently, I am a co-host for On the Mike With Mike Sherman, a weekly entertainment, lifestyle, and sports show that airs on a CBS affiliate (My33) in South Florida. Last season, when the 49ers took on the Giants in New Jersey, I was there to interview athletes and report back on the night’s events for CBS’ San Francisco affiliate. I have reported local news on Long Island and worked as a sports reporter for Artsis Media, where I shot, edited, wrote, and produced all my own stories.

    Throughout my tenure at Columbia University, I majored in sociology and focused on the sociological impact of sports. Through my 40-plus page senior thesis, I discovered that to have longevity and acceptance as a female sports reporter, you must be a sports connoisseur yourself. Voted biggest jock in my high school senior superlatives, I have lived, breathed, and loved sports throughout my life. I believe if given a chance I will be recognized and respected by the sports world for telling compelling stories and conducting in-depth thought-provoking interviews. In other words, I’m a talented young recruit with an All-American future and would love to help the MSG Varsity team work its way to the top of the game.

    Sincerely,

    Lauren Brill

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    • Wow that’s awesome! You wrote for the NBA and WNBA!!This letter is a huge inspiration because I want to do podcasting and interview sports players and artists.

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  • How in the world did I end up here?

    This weekend, I was standing on top of a hill with a fortress and a lighthouse that overlooked the Mediterranean Sea in a small beach town in Spain called Tossa De Mer. It was absolutely breathtaking. And I never even heard of this place before we arrived. All I could think was, “How in the world did I get here?”

    Flashback five years ago, I was at a job in Ohio, and I was not particularly happy for many reasons. Guided by a strong intuition (and maybe my misery as well), I left my career as a sportscaster to start my own company, theunsealed.com. We are a platform that allows people to share personal stories in an effort to use writing to transform pain into power. If you know me, you know The Unsealed fuels my soul. It makes me excited to wake up in the morning and fills my life with meaning and purpose. For the first three years after starting my company, I worked every single day – most of the time, ten hours a day. No vacations. No days off. And I was perfectly happy doing so.

    Personally, I have always enjoyed dating and the attention that comes with it, but after two very serious relationships in my early and mid-twenties, for a long time, I didn’t want anything serious. I always feared that a relationship would and could hold me back, especially when I was a sportscaster, and I didn’t know what city or what job would be next. However, as I became more certain that The Unsealed was what I wanted to do and could do with my life, I became cautiously more open to the idea of a partnership.

    Then, after the pandemic, my brother sent me an online flyer for an event. It was called Miami Tech Night; a networking event held every Wednesday in Miami for people who work in tech. My brother thought it would be a great opportunity for me to meet people in my industry. So, as I usually do, I followed my brother’s advice. It was maybe my second or third time attending when this tall, handsome man approached me and asked me what I did for a living. I happily told him, and then he shared a little bit about his career. As we chatted more and more, he revealed that he had started a successful online business in his 20s and sold it. I was impressed, intrigued, and inspired. He invited me to my favorite taco spot down the street to continue the conversation after the event. We quickly realized we had similar interests and family values.

    From there, we started spending time together almost daily. Every week seemed to get better and better. So, one day, about three months into our relationship, I suggested getting away from Miami for a few weeks during the summer. Summers are so hot, muggy, and humid in Miami. I proposed L.A., and he said he had wanted for a while to take this massive three-month trip to Europe. He asked if I would be willing to come along. In theory, it sounded amazing, but I needed to work! Plus, leaving my dog for that long would not be easy for me.

    My parents agreed to watch my dog, and my boyfriend promised me I could work as much as I wanted on the trip. He’s been where I am, so he gets it. I agreed to go, and for the first time maybe ever, I am figuring out how to have a work-life balance, waking up early to work before we go out for an excursion, and finding cafes in every city to continue to put in at least eight hours every weekday. Instead of resenting me, my boyfriend pushes me to wake up early and goes to play tennis when he doesn’t have his own work to get done.

    At night and on the weekends, when we have time, we have the most incredible experiences exploring the world together, visiting castles in Portugal, wandering the Gothic Quarter in Barcelona, and getting lost in the public transportation system somewhere in Europe (super grateful to the restaurant owner who called us a taxi).

    There is no way if you told me five years ago I would be here right now, I would believe you. But as I sit in a cafe in Spain and reflect, I realize I don’t know exactly where my life is headed, but I do know how I got where I am right now. And that is by personally and professionally following my heart.

    With love,
    Lauren

    P.S. Special shoutout to my boyfriend – thank you for believing in me, pushing me, loving me, and inspiring me. And thank you for speaking three languages. We certainly would get far more lost otherwise!

    Lauren

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    • I love this story. This inspires me to hold onto faith and to let things happen on its own. Thank you so much for sharing this beautiful story. I’m happy you were able to balance work and travel.

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    • Lauren!!! I love this line “I don’t know exactly where my life is headed, but I do know how I got where I am right now. And that is by personally and professionally following my heart.” It’s exactly the space I’m in where life can be so mysterious. While that can be unsettling there is hope in knowing that by following our dreams and what we l…read more

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    • This is my favorite story

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  • This is why I am making the world my workplace for the summer

    As a kid, I was adventurous, riding rollercoasters at age five, going on a plane by myself at seven, and willing to travel just about anywhere up through my college years. I am not sure if it was the pandemic or the tragedies we see daily in the news, or maybe just me getting older, but somehow, along my journey, my fearless spirit began to fade.

    In April, my boyfriend (of just a few months at the time) proposed a trip of a lifetime, three months of traveling all over Europe while working remotely. In theory, it sounded amazing. I went to Europe in my teens and early 20s and loved it. But three months is a long time away from my family and dog, and Europe feels so distant from home. I was scared to go.

    Nonetheless, knowing how much my boyfriend wanted to travel and how wonderful an opportunity and privilege this trip truly is, I agreed to go with him. However, during the three weeks leading up to the trip, I had two separate back spasms/herniated discs, and, for the first time in my life, I fainted and hit my head pretty hard. Maybe it was a coincidence, maybe not. But I definitely felt very anxious.

    Once we made it to our apartment in Barcelona, Spain, I felt slightly more at ease. So far, we’ve walked for miles and miles along the beach, not knowing where we were going or what we wanted to do. We’ve tried delicious food that was possibly worth the ensuing stomachache. And I have attempted to speak and understand a language I do not know. All the while, my boyfriend and I are beginning to learn more about each other’s quirks as we fully live together for the first time.

    As I sit here writing in a cafe in Barcelona, eating new food, working on The Unsealed, and listening to various languages in a city I don’t know very well at all, I am now hopeful that getting a little lost in this world will help me find a part of myself that I thought was long gone.

    Lauren

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    • To be able to travel all over the world is super cool and It’s a great thing that you’ve got you traveling mojo back and that you’re traveling with the one you love. Thank you for sharing

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    • Lauren I am so grateful to have seen your letter. As a young woman that desperately wants to travel but didn’t even go away for school it comforts me in so many ways to see you pushing past your fears and learning how to live in a way that’s such a genuine experience. I pray that soon I’ll be able to tell my own version of this story and I hope to…read more

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      • I somehow missed this response when you wrote it but saw it today. Definitely push yourself outside your comfort zone. It was the best summer of my life, not to mention I fell completely in love with my boyfriend. I was so scared to go and now I want to go back. I can’t wait to hear your story :). Lauren

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  • Thank you Grandpa Herby

    Dear Grandpa,

    It’s been nearly 25 years since I last saw you, and what I remember most about you is how you made me feel. Whether at dinner on the holidays, playing cards, or sitting in your living room telling stories, you lived with a joy and zest for life that was so effortless, natural, and contagious.

    Growing up, you were very athletic, just like me. So when I would tell you about the plays I made or the goals I scored, you’d say, “That’s my little athlete,” knowing I got my athletic prowess from you. I was very outgoing as a child, telling a stranger my whole life story within the first five minutes of meeting them. Since you were not short of personality at any point in your life, you’d always say, with a grin, “We know where that one came from.”

    When I was around you, I always felt like you loved and believed in me and were proud that I was your granddaughter. Grandpa, you always made me happy, and you always made me smile.

    For many years, you had health problems: diabetes, cancer, and heart problems. During the fall of my first year of high school, you had what felt like your 10th heart attack and passed away the Friday after Thanksgiving. I was devastated. Your death was the first time I lost someone close to me. But I pressed on.

    For years, you told me the rain was good luck. So, to cope, I looked for rain to stay connected to you – a way to know you were still there. Sure enough, it rained on the day I graduated from high school. On August 15th, 2012, which would have been your 85th birthday, I was offered my first full-time on-air sports anchor/reporter job. It was pouring outside. And more recently, when I met my boyfriend, who treats me so well and makes me laugh, I asked what his name meant. When he said he didn’t know, I looked it up. His name means the God of Rain.

    With all my heart, Grandpa, I believe you are watching over me. You know I became a sportscaster, and you love that I started a business that advocates for kindness, courage, and equality. You are so overjoyed about the quality of my new boyfriend’s character, and you think it’s funny how my dog doesn’t let anyone within three feet of me. In fact, I think you may have something to do with that.

    So more than telling you that I miss you or even that I love you, what I want you to know is how you made me feel when I was a little girl is how you make me feel now.

    Thank you for still making me smile. Thank you for still making me happy.

    Love your little athlete,

    Lauren

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    • The world is getting smaller Lauren. Not only have we worked for the same companies but I was born and grew up in the Bronx for a short time in my life. Your grandfather may have known my great grandfather and possibly my grandparents. Beautifully written letter to your grandfather, makes me think of my grandparents myself. You’re surely making…read more

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  • Mom, this is what makes you so special

    Dear Mom, Here is what makes our relationship special.

    I am not the only person in the world who thinks they have the world’s greatest mom. But I am the only one who is right. There are so many reasons why you are a great mom. Growing up, you showed up at every dance recital, soccer game, graduation, and field trip. You did my hair as a little girl, even though you had to chase me around the house with a brush and a bow in hand for 20 minutes to do so. You took me to The Plaza for tea time and to restaurants in the city for lunch dates. And you have supported every dream I have ever had. While I cherish all those moments and memories, what really makes you the best mom is that you have never let me cry alone.

    In my worst moments, Mom, you have always been there to listen to, encourage, and give me advice. As a little girl, when I was upset about school or a boy and couldn’t sleep, you would sit in my bed and talk to me until I felt better. To this day, when I am sad or stressed or just need a friend, you are my first phone call. From my first breakup to my assault to the passing of my ex-boyfriend, you have held my hand, wiped my tears and. And somehow, you always make me feel better.

    Your warmth, consistency, and wisdom make you a cut above the rest. And as a result, I move through life feeling very loved. You make hard times more bearable and good times more meaningful.

    I am so lucky to have you, the best mom in the world.

    I love you with all my heart,

    Your daughter,

    Lauren

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    • Lauren, your letter is a beautiful recognition to the special bond you share with your mom. It’s amazing to see that you hold her to the highest level and believe that she is truly the world’s greatest mom. But what truly sets your mom apart is her unwavering presence during your toughest moments. She has never let you cry alone, always offering…read more

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  • Lauren Brill shared a letter in the Group logo of Mental HealthMental Health group 2 years, 1 months ago

    Dear World, Here is why I am grateful

    Dear World,

    I will admit sometimes I complain. Some days, I am grumpy and exhausted and feel the world’s weight on my shoulders. When I am knee-deep in those moments, I often go for a walk or rollerblade by the beach, where I look around and take a breath, and I am quickly reminded of how lucky I am. There are so many reasons I have to possess tremendous gratitude for my life.

    I live in one of the most beautiful cities in the country, with a roof over my head and food for every meal. A few years ago, I discovered my purpose and was able to start and pursue a business that speaks to my soul. I am, knock on wood, healthy and happy. Also, I have the most amazing people in my life.

    My mom calls me daily to check in, asking, “What are you doing? How’s your day.” She always wants to make sure I am happy and at my best. Throughout the week, you can catch my father sharing all my business social media posts, bursting with pride, and doing whatever he can to support my dreams. My big brother, Andrew, is my lifeline. He gives me the best advice, personally and professionally. He has a way of looking at my life challenges through a clear and logical lens and can always guide me. My friends are loving, supportive, and just a phone call away. Some proofread my writing, give me business tips, or listen to me for hours talk about whatever I need to get off my chest. They want nothing more than to see me live my best life. And my boyfriend is the kind of partner that will surprise me and bring back my favorite meal. He will play with my dog and have dinner with my parents on nights when I know he has a ton of work to do. His thoughtfulness makes it clear that he genuinely cares about me.

    All the people in my life make me feel loved, supported, and joyful. My circle is the source of my strength, as I am flooded with positive energy and kindness. I know that my family and friends will never let me fall too far or hard. So while the universe has blessed me in so many ways, what I love most about my life are the people I am fortunate enough to share it with.

    Love,

    Lauren

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    • I’m so glad you have such a strong support system. They’re no better feeling in the world than to have the ones you love to also support you and your passion. Thank you for sharing.

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    • You have such a wonderful support system. And the fact that you’re surrounded by people who care about you and aren’t biased and keep it real with you is amazing. Thank you for sharing

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  • Walt Disney World is a truly magical place

    Dear Walt Disney,

    Like you, I am both a creative and an entrepreneur. Your legacy inspires me beyond measure.

    See, this weekend, I visited Walt Disney World, a collection of theme parks named in your honor and developed based on many of your ideas and creations. It’s the second time I have been there just this year and the sixth time in my life. Each time I go to Disney World, I leave amazed. The parks are enormous, and yet they are so detail-oriented. On average, 58 million people visit Disney World and its parks yearly. Each day, the average revenue for Disney World is $82 million. The parks at Disney World are unlike any other amusement park in the world. And the amount of joy you have brought to people’s lives through these parks and your films is never ending and not quantifiable.

    When I look up at the castle at Magic Kingdom or the ball at EPCOT, I can’t help but think about how this entire empire started with just a vision and a simple cartoon, and that cartoon is now an American icon known as Mickey Mouse.

    While I don’t know how to draw and have no ambition to go into the theme park business, my visions are bigger than anyone else can see. And my starting point is simple. It’s not a mouse like Mickey, but rather a letter – written from one human to another.

    Through letters, I want to inspire people, unite different cultures, and catalyze productive conversations on critical social issues that impact our society. My business is still small – in its infancy. But my vision is clear and so big.

    Mr. Disney, you give me so much hope and fire to keep marching forward.

    For me, Disney World is not just a place for rides, shows, and good food. And your legacy is so much more than the drawings you created. Both are reminders of what is possible with a simple concept, a big vision, and a determined spirit.

    Thank you.

    Sincerely,

    Lauren

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    • Mr. Disney started with a small idea but a big dream and like you and many others has inspired a long line of dreamers. This letter to him is exactly what his dream was. To inspire.

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    • I love this so much, and I totally agree with you. I’ve only gone once. My daughter took me for my 40th Bday, which she was also celebrating passing the bar for the first time, so it was a great celebration for both of us, and I loved it so much. It was an amazing time, to me, like a dream. I had never experienced such joy during that trip. It was…read more

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      • Awww thank you. I hope you get a chance to go back! You mentioned your daughter before, she sounds like a really sweet person and smart as well. <3 Lauren

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    • I love your perspective of Disney World. I believe we can create any reality we want with proper planning, and patience just like you and Walt Disney. The best part about it bringing joy, and helping others discover themselves in numerous ways!

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    • It’s clear that Mr. Disney is a very inspirational figure in your life. He started with a dream just like you and he brought that dream to life and inspired millions to chase their own dreams.

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  • PINUS CONTORTA

    PINUS CONTORTA

    Coming around the final red rock
    a group of which perches precariously
    on top of each other
    it had been a steady climb up
    the last thousand feet, ascending,
    reaching for the infinity of a cloudless blue sky
    having seen the top blonde rocks
    those that might have been whitewashed
    in the sun up there for maybe
    a thousand thousand years

    these had seen the cultures of man come
    and go, likely some blood shed in doing so
    and also clean births of new stars
    with the meteor showers

    the pines growing up there
    twisted , moved about by the winds
    and events that danced around
    their brown and red trunks and green limbs
    reaching for sanity
    from the frailties of men.

    There was a hearth circle
    in the only flattish place up there
    cinders in it nearly washed away
    by the rain of time’s passage
    still, a few were nestled
    around the inner border of the circle.
    A rock overhang overhead
    carbon from the smoke stained it’s roof
    a testament to the antiquity
    an intensity of flames leaping, swirling so long ago

    what shit had been shot while seated around
    watching the fire’s anesthesia
    shadows on faces, so far off in the dim past
    the conversations have blown away with the smoke

    no synthesizer music here,
    likely a soft native flute
    perhaps some drumming on a nearby log
    or the resonating rasp made of armidillo shell
    moving the rhythms of those seated
    in conversation, on the events of their day.

    Did a light-headedness come from a new birth
    or perhaps a discovery of delight
    of a successful hunt
    the careful killing of brother bighorn sheep
    enough to feed all of them
    along with finding a new chert vein in the rocks
    nearby, to make their projectile points,
    or did a darkness come into their lives
    like a terrible encounter of a loss to sister catamount
    who was also hungry for fresh warm meat.

    The pines are twisted,
    moved by the human discourse.

    Strength remains, even when the wind stops.
    Poem Copyrighted 4/2023, Ray Whitaker
    Photo Copyrighted 4/2023, Ray Whitaker

    RAY WHITAKER

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    • Ray, reading your poems always makes me think. You are thoughtful and your words are so carefully chosen. This is yet another beautiful piece. Thank you for sharing and thank you for being a part of our family. <3 Lauren

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  • Lauren Brill shared a letter in the Group logo of PoetryPoetry group 2 years, 2 months ago

    Dear World...

    I remember when I first learned of misogyny, racism and pure hate
    I had thought long ago it all reached its expiration date

    Clearly, I was wrong
    As many are still dancing to an old song

    As a young girl, they told me playing sports is a microcosm of adult life
    But in the real world, the refs try to prevent me from winning at any
    role except mother and wife

    They do so by attempting to lower my ceiling
    While reducing my existence to what I do when I am lying or kneeling

    When it comes to civil rights, I may have never seen a noose
    But the concept of racial equality is definitely still a ruse

    I know I am not black and I can’t understand racism through what I
    hear on the news or read in a book
    But I am human and I know a young innocent boy should not be shot
    because of the way he looks

    In love, we still can’t all marry the person who makes our hearts feel
    cared for or protected
    Instead we must worry and live in fear that our connection won’t be
    accepted

    In careers, many of us don’t receive opportunity based on ability
    Instead, we are held back because of our complexion, sexuality or
    femininity

    The solution is in our own evolution

    We are fighting old battles in a modern form
    A new movement where we all stand for each other needs to be born

    Men must stand up against rape and be leaders in its elimination
    Women need to speak up when different races or sexual orientations
    receive any kind of discrimination

    Our voices would have so much more power if we sang as a choir
    Going against the establishment as separate acts just lead us to tire

    Whether you’re black, white, female or LGBT
    People need to stand for people if we are all going to be set free

    Our past should not still be our reality
    It’s time for injustice to be the latest fatality

    Our children deserve a world where hate doesn’t consistently rise
    above
    Instead, I want them to experience the best of life, by living in a place
    where they can feel hope and universal love

    Lauren

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    • A fine meaty poem here, Lauren! you write so well! some of my favorite lines:
      The solution is in our own evolution

      We are fighting old battles in a modern form
      A new movement where we all stand for each other needs to be born

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    • I’m speechless. This poem is exactly what I’ve been thinking but put into words that can be universally understood. You pain a beautiful picture with your words and perspective. Never stop writing your truth. Thank you for sharing.

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