There’s a correspondence between heartbeats where words falter yet meanings are understood therein lies a love that transcends language it’s a dance of souls in quietness of whispers
It’s the brush of fingertips on skin the lingering gaze that speaks volumes the shared breath of two souls entwined in a symphony of emotions untamed
It’s the warmth of a sunrise in their touch the gentle caress of moonlight’s embrace a language of gestures, unspoken desires etched by the pressing hands of time
For what is love if not a melody played on the strings of the soul, a song without lyrics, yet understood in the silence that binds hearts as one
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Beforeword: This poem is a tribute to the beauty of lasting love. It celebrates the choice to keep discovering one another by creating new experiences within familiar spaces rather than searching for excitement elsewhere. Through everyday moments, shared places become landscapes of renewal, proving that love flourishes when we continually reimagine the ordinary together.
In the quiet space of renewal we find each other again, every day a canvas, every touch a brushstroke on the landscape of the history we share
This old place— with walls that echo laughter with windows that frame the seasons of our lives— it’s a testament to the love we’ve built, intention by intention moment by moment
We wander familiar paths, our footsteps guided by memories etched deep into the soil, we carve new trails, seek and hide in the weathered shadows cast by ancient trees
Your hand in mine steady and sure, we explore the forgotten rooms of this love—rediscovering the thrill of firsts—releasing the addiction of the routine
Here—in this sanctuary of us— we create new experiences, we rekindle the fires of wonder, holding steadfast against the temptations of new, finding renewal in the known, beauty in the familiar
Each day, is a promise kept each glance, is a vow renewed we stay, we hold, we grow forever weaving new threads into the tapestry of our endless love
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Beforeword: Love begins as something we seek, becomes something we practice, and ends by revealing it was shaping us all along. The journey comes full circle when we realize we have become the very love we were looking for.The poetic form, loop poetry—where the last word(s) of a line becomes the first word(s) of the next line—is fitting for this soulful full-circle piece.
Heart’s rhythm beats for love For love that protects, create safe space Safe space to be vulnerable, totally free Totally free to be just as you are, completely
Completely a love like poetry in motion In motion flow like ocean, muse creating Muse creating healing for you and I You and I enveloped in the wholeness of love
Love, you, me—broken in different ways, different places Different places synchronized in all the right spaces Right spaces to restore like ancient art Ancient art that restores broken hearts made whole
Whole, we move by love’s essence like Marley’s one love One love the synchronous beats of two hearts Two hearts as one, unexplainable connection Unexplainable connection this love that eclipses logic
Logic, no—
Heart’s rhythm beats for love For love that protects, create safe space Safe space to be vulnerable, totally free Totally free to be just as you are, completely
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Love rules our hearts, it gives us choice No chains to bind, no hurried voice In whispers soft its voice comes through Like a tender guide, pure and true
No iron laws, no harsh decree Love always reigns wild and free It carves no path, but shows the way Guiding heart-to-heart, come what may
In love’s domain, we find our art A masterpiece within the heart It rules with warmth, a glowing flame A guiding star we can’t explain
So let love lead with gentle hand In whispered words and actions grand Love teaches us, it guides the way Directing all we do and say
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This poem celebrates love as the source of both feeling and creativity—the rhythm at the center of the heart, where emotions reverberate like music.
—what can I say … LIFE! you’re a giver you’re a taker you tear-down you build-up you bring smiles you bring tears
—what is it about you … LIFE? you keep me guessing wondering what lies around your curves beyond your corners up your hills down your vales
—what makes you … LIFE: your beautiful mysteries your spiraling unpredictability your anxious uncertainties your known past your unknown future your unending surprises
Beforeword: The lesson of Juneteenth: hope may lay the foundation, but love is what opens the door to freedom and keeps it open.
Image Credit: Globe & Mail
As I watched the official opening of the Barack Obama Presidential Center from here in Nairobi, I found myself connecting threads. I was struck by how Juneteenth, Obama’s Kenyan ancestry, and June’s theme of love converged in one moment.
Story of freedom and hope
Juneteenth tells the story of freedom that arrived late. And is a reminder that hope can travel a long road before reaching its destination. And it is that hope that shaped Obama’s presidential journey and is now the bedrock of his Presidential Center.
The opening of this Center is on the surface the dedication of a building. But more than that it is a house built from hope—a hope nurtured by generations who believed that freedom could be broader, justice more accessible, and opportunity not reserved for only the few.
Yet hope alone does not build houses. Love also does.
Story of love
Love is woven through this story. Listening to Michelle love on her husband, retelling his myriad accomplishments with admiration and pride. The love of family that shapes character long before the world takes notice. The love of country manifested in selfless service. The love that believes a nation can become more faithful to its ideals than it was yesterday.
Juneteenth itself is a testament to that kind of love. It celebrates those who continued to believe in freedom even when freedom had not yet reached them. Those who held fast to dignity when circumstances denied it. Those who imagined a future larger than their present reality.
Stories rarely belong to one place
As a Jamaican-Canadian who’s lived in various countries and now living in Kenya, I am aware that stories rarely belong to one place. They cross oceans. They carry names, dreams, and unfinished aspirations.
The Presidential Center is one such story that stretches from the village of Nyang’oma Kogelo off the shores of Lake Victoria, Kenya to the South Side of Chicago. From a Kenyan father to an American President, from possibility to legacy.
The first American President of African ancestry meant the rules were different, the expectations were higher. It’s what led Ta-Nehesi Coates to say: “For eight years he walked on ice and never fell.” An imagery used to describe the extraordinary scrutiny and constraints that accompanied Obama’s presidency as the first Black president of the United States.
He had to strike the balance of carefulness and calm in navigating political, racial, and cultural expectations with an almost impossible degree of precision. And as Michelle highlighted, he did so guided by an unshakable moral compass. And what we saw at the opening of the Center is testament to not only President Obama successfully getting through two terms of service—eight years—but that he came through to the other side true to himself as a Black man, a faithful husband and a dependable father.
Standing here in Kenya, where part of that presidential story began, I am reminded that the hope that fuels the Obama’s is never built alone. Nor was it the work of one man alone. It was carried by those who crossed oceans before him, those who marched before him, and those who loved him enough to believe that history could bend toward a wider freedom.
And just as how it is installed on the wall within the Center, this hope is constructed—intention by intention, through sacrifice, courage, partnership, and love—and to be installed in each of us.
HOPE permanently etched on the wall inside the Presidential Center
I titled this reflection the “The House That Hope Built” drawing from Billy Brown’s song of the same title. The song questions whether hope is real while the Presidential Center shows what hope actually builds when it’s rooted in love, lineage, and legacy. A flip of the script, as it were.
To be clear: “This is the people’s house” is declared inside the Center
The Center is a library, a museum, and the people’s house.
It is the ongoing work and enduring partnership between Barack and Michelle Obama—two people who choose to widen the circle of freedom for those who come after them.
And perhaps that is the lesson of Juneteenth: hope may lay the foundation, but love is what opens the door to freedom and keeps it open.
Beforeword: This poem is a collaboration with the folk song “Where Have All the Flowers Gone”from the 1960s which carries a powerful anti-war message. The song poignantly illustrates the futility of war—girls pick flowers, they find partners, the men go to war, and eventually, they return only to graveyards covered in those same flowers. With over 50 armed conflicts raging in our world today, when will we ever learn: all that remains in the end is, loss?!
Where have all the flowers gone, long time passing?
Girls with their tender hearts plucked them Bending to the earth, sending dreams towards the sky Gathering the petals of innocence Weaving hope into the garlands of their dreams
Where have the young girls gone, long time passing?
Their laughter lost in the silent fields of grief Their dreams and aspirations woven into the wind, carried on whispers Where hands once clasped in promise Now hold nothing but memories and fading scent
Where have all the young men gone, long time passing?
From the tender embrace of youth, to the stern call of duty They marched in lines, with hearts beating strong Into the fury of battles, into the silence of fields Leaving behind only death, only regret
Where have all the soldiers gone, long time passing?
Their songs now silenced, their dreams laid to rest In the cold embrace of graveyards Where flowers bloom anew, their petals bright and tender Covering the earth with the soft whisper of remembrance
Where have all the graveyards gone, long time passing?
In fields where life begins anew, flowers bloom in their stead The cycle of loss in a dance of futility Girls still pick flowers, men still march to war And flowers still cover the graves in the end
Where have all the flowers gone, long time passing?
Gone to graveyards, every one, When will we ever learn, when will we ever learn? That flowers and dreams, loss and tears Are all that remain in the end
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Leaning because He is strong Leaning because He is dependable Leaning because He will never let me fall
My Beloved is kind and supportive He never mistakes my leaning for weakness He is my confidante My bona fide The One who always has my back
He is trustworthy He loves me completely fully unconditionally
Even in my wilderness— of wrongdoing of loneliness of wandering of weariness— He is not judgmental
He’s not elusive dodging emotions or distant from my pain— He stays He listens He leans in when I need Him most
He invites me to lean on Him He promises— I will never leave you in the wilderness Come, walk with Me to the place I prepared for you You are My girl
And so I keep coming— Up out of barren places Up out of broken spaces Up leaning on the One who holds me steady
I am my Beloved’s and my Beloved is mine
My heart is safe Safe in His love Safe in His arms Safe in Him
Afterword: Solomon, former King of ancient Israel is the OG of love poetry. Long before playlists, podcasts, or relationship gurus, he was dropping bars on love, longing, devotion, heartbreak, desire, and intimacy. But beneath the romance is something deeper: a portrait of a love that pursues, protects, reassures, and remains—God’s love. This poem is about that love based on Song of Songs 8:5
Beforeword: This poem is a lover’s endearing question: In that other life will your love search for me, find me, love no other but me?
When life turns into eternity’s grasp Will memories of your love firmly clasp? In that ethereal realm, will you recall The love we shared, ‘twas the sweetest of all?
In realms beyond where time has no bounds Will your heart seek mine in whispers and sounds? Amidst cosmic wonders will you yearn for me Finding solace in my love’s celestial rhapsody?
Know, no other soul can ignite this flame It burns too deep, ‘twill forever be the same Through lifetimes and realms our love will endure A bond unbreakable forever and sure
And when life is interrupted by the call of death Will our souls reunite, drawn by each other’s breath? In that other life will your love still survive To search, find me, keep this love alive?
Will destiny guide our souls’ embrace? Across the abyss beyond infinity of space When life turns into eternity’s night I’ll find your love, it will be my light
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Beforeword: This post is a reflection on the ultimate gift—a bilum. I came to know that bilum doesn’t hide the truth, it just places it underneath. The front- and undersides are real. But only one side shows the cost.
A bilum. A gift. A womb.
When was the last time you had a surprise that both blessed you and took you back in time all at the same time?
For me that was a couple weeks ago. Of all the things I expected to happen while attending the Women Deliver Conference, I did not expect a gift to find me.
With nearly six thousand people moving through that space, what were the odds of running into someone you didn’t even know was looking for you? Slim, at best. And yet, that is exactly what happened.
This post is about the joy of that unexpected encounter, the deeper meaning of being “found,” and the lessons wrapped in the gift that came with it.
Happenstance or orchestrated?
It was the end of the day. A colleague and I were heading away from the conference to our separate hotels when I heard my name. Not as a confident exclamation but a questioning utterance in a could-it-be-you sort of way.
They were walking just behind me. His wife was certain it was me; he wasn’t so sure—ironic, given he’s the one who had worked with me for years🙂. In his mind, she had to be mistaken. Still, he called out my name—“Dawn?”—with that cautious-half-question tone. I turned, and there he was. One of the best blasts from my past, standing right in front of me.
When he heard I was coming to the conference he started thinking of how to find me while keeping the surprise in tact.
He’s a former staff member—someone I once supervised, but more truthfully, someone I had a meaningful working relationship with and had also connected with his family. He and his wife had talked through how to find me. The logistics didn’t make sense. The crowd. The schedule. The constant movement. And the day didn’t cooperate. Or so it seemed in its unfolding.
Delays. Missed timing. A few turns and twists. And then—there we were. Face to face. Without scrambling, without confusion. The meet up happened through what we each agreed was nothing short of a divinely-orchestrated unfolding.
He and his wife didn’t only talk about how the meet up may happen, but also what to gift me.
Before that moment, I might have called it a bag. Something handmade. Something beautiful. But he didn’t approach it casually, and that made me pay attention. He told me he had bought more than one. He wanted me to choose what felt right to me. That level of care told me this wasn’t about the object—it was about what it carried.
What it carried was meaning.
In Papua New Guinea, a bilum is a traditional handwoven string bag. It’s made using a looping (not knitting or weaving in the usual sense) technique that creates a flexible, expandable net-like structure.
In Tok Pisin (one of PNG’s main languages), “bilum” literally means “womb. That’s not poetic exaggeration—it’s functional and symbolic and how it is to be understood:
It stretches, it adapts, it carries weight without losing form.
It holds life—food, goods, babies.
The bag sits against the body, often supported from the head.
So the bilum becomes a physical extension of care, protection, and survival.
It is made by women
His wife went on to explain that because of the high levels of intimate partner violence—which affects 80% of women (a rate that may be the highest in the world) many women use the creative process of making the bilum to speak their pain into the process. In so doing they have woven the unspoken stories into these bags—truths society does not always openly acknowledge.
You may never hear her voice directly, but carry that bilum into the world and her message goes with you.
What looks simple is actually built through repetition, patience, and intention. You don’t rush a bilum. You build it. Not quickly. Not casually. Each strand prepared, each loop formed by hand. In that regard, no two are the same. Each carries the individual decisions, rhythm, and emotional imprint of the woman who made it.
They both concur on this point: the bilum/womb I’ve been gifted is unique and it’s connected to a specific woman’s story.
And as I heard this, I started to understand why this was the gift he chose.
The first time I carried the bilum I noticed some fibers were exposed. My “neat girl” mind immediately went to: you should clip them off. However, I was drawn instead to examine the underside.
That’s when I discovered there’s another layer to a bilum that you don’t see until you look closer.
Turn the bilum inside out, and the underside tells a different story. Knots. Tension points. Threads crisscrossing in ways that don’t look refined or finished. It’s not what you would display. But it’s what makes the bag hold.
The outside is smooth. Structured. Coherent. The kind of beauty that makes sense at a glance. Each pattern has a symbolic meaning. Some of these are described by the UN Population Fund, that runs a #BilumCampaign:
Diamond: represents a young girl’s journey into womanhood.
Half diamond: is worn by young women who have already passed through puberty.
Fallopian: inspired by the shape of a woman’s ovaries and fallopian tubes.
Mountain: symbolic of the challenges women must overcome in society.
Spiderweb: symbolic of the role of methodical attention and diligence in a woman’s craft.
Skin pik: reminder of the unequal status of women in traditional PNG society.
As I’m coming to realize that bilum patterns are not merely decorative but are a visual language, I’m more and more intrigued to know the pattern of my gift. Is it communicating status, transition, grief, womanhood, resistance, becoming?
However, more important than knowing the pattern or motif, is knowing the knots, tensions, and hidden threads beneath the surface are as much a part of the story as the beauty seen on the outside. The weaving itself becomes testimony.
The inside is where the work actually sits—the pressure, the tightening, the places where things had to be pulled together to keep from falling apart.
And it struck me how easy it is to confuse the two:
One, to look at what is visible on the outside and assume the process was just as clean. But that is only how it looks.
And, two, to mistake the finished side for the full story. But that’s only how it’s lived.
What if I had cut off what I first saw as excess fiber? I would have missed this lesson—the bilum doesn’t hide the truth, it just places it underneath. Both sides are real. But only one shows the cost.
And maybe that’s the part I needed to hold onto most.
Seasons of knots over seasons of progress
There are seasons that feel like the underside—tight, uncomfortable, not yet making sense. The kind of moments where you can’t see the pattern, only the strain. Where everything feels like knots instead of progress.
But the bilum doesn’t come apart because of those knots. It holds because of them.
Every pull. Every loop. Every place where the thread had to be worked into position—none of it is wasted. It’s all part of the design, even when the design isn’t visible yet.
You won’t understand the pattern while you’re underneath it. You can only understand it when you come through.
So now, I don’t just see a gift. I see a reminder to trust what’s being woven, even when I’m still on the side that doesn’t look finished.
And then there’s the part I can’t ignore.
I received a womb at Women Deliver
That alignment is too precise to dismiss. First, because it reinforced that “women deliver” far more than babies:
They deliver stability into homes, often through unpaid care that is not systematically tracked.
They carry emotional weight for families, workplaces, communities—holding space, smoothing tension, anticipating needs before they are spoken.
They deliver ideas, solutions, resilience.
They show up, again and again, in ways that are expected but rarely named.
What they carry is constant. What they produce sustains more than we often acknowledge.
And second, because a womb means something is being formed. Something is being carried before it is revealed. Something is in process, whether or not anyone else can see it yet.
And if this bilum carries anything, it carries that truth.
My bilum’s pattern: becoming
After reviewing a few bilem patterns mine seem to resemble a Skin Pik variation:
the rectangular segmented blocks,
the earthy tones,
the strong black dividing lines, and
the structured geometry.
A pattern born from women being diminished…now becoming a gift carrying affirmation, voice, memory, and destiny.
What is being woven now—quietly, intentionally, even through the tension—is not random. It is on its way to becoming.
Doing something a little different this week. No poetry. No prose. Instead I’ll be posting a series of snappy one-liners that are as good as a mouthful like:
Without soul care you’ll not be at home in your own heart.
Never allow someone to be your priority while allowing yourself to be their option.
— Mark Twain
The longer you fight The longer lies masquerade as hope Empty promises sound like plans Deceit manipulates you
The longer you stay The more you shrink Massaging truth to explain silence Mistaking absence for relationship
The longer you wait The more you erase Your needs Your voice Your worth
The longer you hope The more you ignore What actions have been spelling out in bold
The longer you fight The longer your heart beats pain The clearer it becomes: you’re at war—alone
And love— Love was never meant To feel like survival
So you stop
Not because you don’t love But because You are no longer willing to abandon yourself to prove it
Afterword: Time and emotional energy run out. They are not endless. So where you place them matters. Pouring into what pours back builds something. But, giving all of yourself to what won’t choose you only leaves you empty.
Have you ever wanted to express a deep feeling and standard English words just weren’t enough?
Take njabulo — from isiZulu and also used in isiXhosa — it names a joy so full it spills over. The kind that rises from deep inside and radiates outward, touching everyone in its path.
Or, have you had those moments when language needed stretching?
In Jamaica, we play with the English language to say more, to create words that carry weight. For instance, apprecilove—instead of appreciate—to express a level of gratitude rooted in care, affection, and presence, not mere politeness.
I start here because this piece is an expression of njabulo and of apprecilove — written for the friends who held me while I came home to support hurricane relief in Jamaica. (You can read that piece here.)
I came for three weeks to volunteer in communities affected by the hurricane. I was able to do that freely because friends stepped in without hesitation. When I said, “mi need a place fi cotch” (I need somewhere to stay), the response was immediate: “Yeah man, come.”
They opened their homes. Offered beds. Shared meals. Made space for rest between long days. One friend gave me a base — a place to store suitcases packed with supplies as I moved from parish to parish. Another offered her Airbnb so I could pause, breathe, and reset. In that small window of reprieve I had a few days to walk on sand soft as clouds under my feet and swim in water as clear as glass—Jamaica still knows how to restore!
Photo taken by me
Their generosity removed every practical barrier and let me focus on supporting. But more than that, it deepened our bonds. In the middle of relief efforts, shared tables and quiet conversations became part of the healing too. Their care didn’t just sustain, it strengthened our connection and affirmed the JamaiCAN-do spirit in the most personal way.
In apprecilove Open doors, steady friendships Thanks that run deep still
When next you plan to visit Jamaica and Ocho Rios (in beautiful St Ann Parish) is on your itinerary, check out this sweet spot—click HERE—the Airbnb with a most stunning view and easy access to beaches that feels like a glimpse of heaven.
Photos taken by me while enjoying this stunning view at the Airbnb
Beforeword: I came across this young poet—Cherry Paul Ede’s—powerful rendition of Fragile Dogubo’s poem: “Gucci Cross” which I first posted in 2022. Reposting it now with the lyrics:
“I don’t know who needs to hear this, but Jesus was not crucified on a Gucci cross. He didn’t have on a crown of Versace thorns or Nike shoes on his feet when the nails pierced through. There was nothing bougie about Calvary. That old raggedy wooden cross wasn’t even befitting to hold the carpenter’s son, but there our God hung, held on by His love for us, by His love for all.
It wasn’t the red carpet affair for your favorite celebs. Matter of fact, the only paparazzi was an angry mob as a crowd of witnesses. Once upon a time, I thought the crucifixion was like the Grammys, an award show only for a self-righteous view. But the Bible didn’t mention an ovation – only wrongful accusation, hate speech and boos from fools. The King of Glory came through.
Jesus “felt every nail, felt every whiplash, every rib crack. It was for you that He embraced the pain.
Jesus was placed in the tomb, but then He showed up on the third day like, ‘I’m good, and you are, too’ — one with the Father, my blood makes you brand new. So what other proof do you need that God loves you?
So when the serpent comes to the ring – hissing, whispering deceitful accusations speaking in passive tongues. This is clapback season. Declare: fully my sins are forgiven.
I do not know who needs to hear this, but Jesus was not crucified on the Gucci cross. It doesn’t matter your age, gender, race or net worth – only that you have been made holy.”
I’m grateful for the old rugged cross and the blood that saves!
Have you turned on the news lately and felt your heart sink?
So many nations are caught in conflict. So much suffering.
Wars. Armed conflicts. Border shifts. Political power plays that dominate the global stage while diplomacy falters.
From Gaza to Ukraine, Israel to Iran, Haiti to Myanmar—the world trembles under the weight of violence, displacement, and fear.
We watch, we grieve, and sometimes we wonder if peace is even possible.
Our world is breathtaking in its design, created to be our home, a dwelling place, but now burdened by unrest and devastation.
And creation itself feels it.
It’s groaning —manifested in unpredictable weather patterns, unparalleled natural disasters.
The apostle Paul wrote about this. This is what he said:
“We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth [and not just in his time, but] right up to the present time.”
—Romans 8:22 (NIV)
Paul didn’t ignore the chaos. He traced it back to a deeper reality: that is—the world groans because things are not as God originally intended—caused by what the Bible defines as sin.
But thankfully Paul didn’t stop at groaning. He pointed to glory:
“But thank God! He gives us victory over sin and death through our Lord Jesus Christ.”
—1 Corinthians 15:57 (NLT)
Yes, the world groans—but it also waits.
Waits for redemption.
Waits for peace that no summit or ceasefire alone can secure.
Waits for the Prince of Peace who promises to make all things new.
As this Sabbath unfolds, may your soul find refuge in that promise.
May you find rest in the hope that even when nations shake, God’s love remains unshaken and unshakeable.
From experiences encountered each passing day She grows, just a little more But now she knows, inside, she’s never really fully grown For in her heart, buried deep within A child yearns to be known, to be loved, to grow
Unanswered questions played on repeat:
Was it me? Was I not the child he wanted? Did I cry too loudly? Did I make him mad? Did I bring him laughter? No! He must have been sad
There’s no other explanation He’d just simply gone away
Never held her as a baby Never fed her as a child Never called her his little girl Never owned her as his child
Growing up she felt abandoned Kept it hidden, deep down inside Didn’t want to let mom know Didn’t want make mom sad For he had left her behind too
Cried when she knew mom could not hear her Built a father in her mind— Not the one who left, but the one she needed He lived in memories that never happened Kept her sane, kept her dreaming
Part II: The Reuniting
Then that image, it got shattered Reality didn’t ask permission, it just came crashing in Tearing away what she had dreamed of Leaving her bare Scared again
Said he loved her, but he hit her Said he’d always be there, but vanished again
Alone
She survived on strangers’ kindness Curled up in corners not her own Love felt like waiting on empty And pain? A predictable “friend”, well known
Part III: Attempted Reconciliation
She tried to mend the broken pieces Three times Being rejected o’er again Sending letters Making phone calls He just didn’t want to be there She learned—you can’t find what won’t be found
Yes—there were nights when sorrow sang her to sleep And mornings when tears her only prayer But even then, God held each shattered piece And when she stopped chasing That’s when He started healing
The child within has grown up Now she can let him go— Not in anger but in accepting That sometimes silence is the answer And the space for love to conquer
Part IV: Resolution
In that healing she found forgiving So she didn’t break, but bloomed So the storms that came couldn’t drown her And the darkness her mind subdue So she could see that someone was waiting
Not the father who couldn’t stay—but the One who couldn’t leave Always right there by her side In the aching, in the silence, orchestrating her becoming
Part V: The Benediction
So to those who feel abandoned Confused, abused, used
Hear this:
God can mend the broken pieces Find your child who lives within He invites— Pick yourself up, begin again And, know this He’s the Father who stays He heals He restores And
When whole meets whole Two souls stepping into love Each already complete You bring your 100 And I raise you mine
Because love—real love— It needs commitment more than chemistry It needs building blocks more than butterflies Real love, it needs nutrients
So feed love with the elements that make life thrive:
Sunlight— Surround each other in warmth on those dark days Bring light that sustains not like fireworks that fizzle out, die But let truth rise between you like the sun, consistent and always present
Fresh air— Breathe space into the life you are building Creating room for each other to grow, to exhale No manipulating No control No stifling silence— just openness between you
Rest— Don’t wear each other down Become each other’s Sabbath, a place to lay, to rest, to be Let your love feel like coming home
Nutrition— Feed each other’s soul with words that nourish not tear down Serve each other honesty Feast on it like it’s a gourmet meal—so you grow
Exercise— Work at it Work it out Stretch into new understanding Run from pride Lift each other’s spirits Stay active in faithfulness Let there be no laziness in your love
Water— Stay hydrated in forgiveness Racing to be first to say: “I’m sorry” Wash away yesterday’s offenses Flow, not force Your love, like water, takes the shape of effort, breaking down resistance
And above all, put your Trust in God Staying rooted in the Divine Placing covenant above separation Pray to keep it right Praise when you’re confused Plant your love in the soil of something higher than yourselves With God in the middle Two wholes become one
So you bring your whole And I’ll bring mine Let’s grow a love nourished right— That won’t just survive It will thrive
Afterword: The inspiration for this poem is Newstart—a physician monitored, scientifically researched lifestyle change program based on eight fundamental principles proven to help us achieve optimum health: Nutrition, Exercise, Water, Sunlight, Temperance, Air, Rest, and Trust in God.
Stay single till you meet the person who makes you smile from within and it escapes with such intensity it up-curls your lips from ear to ear, makes your cheeks go numb and your eyes light up
Stay single till you meet the one who proves himself worthy of you, who prioritizes you, amidst the busyness of life he makes time to see you— no lame ass excuses of “just because…” and “I was gonna but…”
Wait for the one whose touch ignites your senses, makes your knees buckle weak and your heart skip beats and your stomach butterfly-flutters, wait for the one who moves you
Stay single till you meet the one who’ll do anything for you— like walk a tight rope 50 feet above ground— because he knew you’d not ask if you didn’t need him to and because he knew you knew he’d be safe to do for you
Stay single till you meet someone who accepts you, not wanting to change the you that you are but who celebrates the essence of you, accepting you in all your quirkinesses and flawsomeness, someone who loves you for you
Wait for someone who is proud of you, celebrates your accomplishments as if they’re his own— your own personal membership to a one-on-one cheerleading squad, wait for the one who’s “got you”
Stay single till you find the person who makes you want to be a better you, who’s worthy to fight for and to fight with ‘cause—face it— love and life will derail fantasies of “happily ever after”, you’ll need someone who’s battle ready
Stay single till your desire to be booed-up is not from a place of brokenness, lack or desperation, but from a healed place, from a place of trust, love and vulnerability
Wait for someone whose words and actions go hand-in-hand; who will say what they mean and do what they say, wait for the one who is intentional about you
Stay single till the one who is for you finds you, and you know you have been found
George Floyd your life mattered. Your death sparked a movement. We will not forget. (Your sunset: 25 May 2020)
I CAN’T BREATHE His voice reached back over 400 years to the belly of slave ships Summoning the plight of fore-mamas and -papas Black bodies snatched from homeland stacked up for export Crammed in places too cramped for air Constrained. Pressed. Till urine leaked, undignified Shackled and restrained from neck to feet Black bodies stretched out beneath deck, unseen
Too dark to see Too constrained to touch Too dense to be heard Too putrid to breathe in
I CAN’T BREATHE His voice reached back 46 years to the belly of his mamma To summon the space he’s always felt protected, safer Invoking relief from the indignity of shackled wrists Pinned under the knee-weight embodiment of bigotry and racist hatred 8 minutes:46 seconds Breath. Of. Life … deliberately snuffed out, stolen Black body stretched out for the world to view
Too riotous not to see Too palpable not to touch Too loud not to be heard Too blatant not to breathe in
I CAN’T BREATHE Ricocheted off sidewalks from cities and towns around the globe Escaped the lips of mamas, papas, sistas, brothas of every age, color and creed Galvanizing protests undaunted by a pandemic Bodies of all races stretched out, collective voices shout Demanding revolution, transformation, radical alteration
Too multi-ethnic not to see Too seismic not to touch Too forceful not to be heard Too copious not to breathe in
I CAN’T BREATHE Ignite change … too enormous not to see Ignite change … too radical not to touch Ignite change … too disruptive not to be heard Ignite change … too transforming not to breathe-in
Change.
So.
I.
Can.
BREATHE.
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it showed up on a Wednesday after dark—knocked knocked with determination on the entrance entrance of her mind awakened awakened from stupor gathering gathering her wits about her down down the stairs across the hall meandering meandering through the passage way she she peers through the peep hole of the door door to her mind and she sees—it it—is sinister sinister a force forces its way in uninvited uninvited into the deepest recesses recesses of her mind cobwebbed cobwebbed like a closet blacker blacker than the darkest night night formed from childhood hurts grown grown-up disappointments her mind now mildew mildew-stained of if-only-could-o’-been-not-enough-what-if if her mind now molded-grief from loss loss from betrayal from rejection in those those dusty crevices resides a familiar familiar stranger her thoughts redirecting redirecting her emotions orchestrating there there staring right back at her—it it showed up on a Wednesday after dark—knocked knock knock
Afterword: Darkness can be from issues that you dare not let anyone see or know about, the issues you struggle with alone and silently … it’s time to open the door, let in the light, you’re not alone!
First published 2022 All Rights Reserved GIF powered by Tenor
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Beforeword: “The Chosen” retells the biblical account of a woman who bled for twelve years—likely battling what we now know as endometriosis. Doctors failed her. Society shunned her. But her faith pressed through the crowd and reached for the hem of healing. With one touch, she drew virtue from Jesus. The way this act was portrayed in “The Chosen” tugged at my heart and inspired this poem about a bold, desperate, and unshakeable kind of faith.Mark 5:25–34
Twelve years. Twelve long, leaking, limping years. Not of just blood, but of being bled— by shame, by silence, by systems that said: “You’re unclean.” “You’re unworthy.” “Stay unseen.”
She was hemorrhaging more than her body could bear— her hope dripped slow, like her dignity, into dusty streets that never remembered her name.
But this—this is a story of a woman who reached when religion said “Don’t.” Who touched when culture said “Stay back.” Who dared to believe healing was not just possible— but personal.
She said, “If I but touch the hem…” Not his hand. Not his face. Just the fringe of grace. She didn’t need center stage, just the edge of mercy.
And when her fingers found the thread— Power moved. Time froze. Heaven stood still.
And He said, “Who touched me?”
Not out of rebuke, but revelation.
She came trembling, expecting judgment, but found joy. Expecting condemnation, but got confirmation.
He didn’t call her “woman.” Didn’t say “healed one.” Didn’t say “formerly unclean.”
He called her— Daughter.
And the world shifted.
Because God doesn’t rename without reason. When He calls you something new, it’s not just a title— it’s a territory. It’s the unlocking of destiny. An announcement of assignment. A sign that your suffering was not wasted— it was womb.
Daughter.
That’s not just comfort— that’s commission. That’s “Welcome to the family.” That’s “Your faith just opened a door.” That’s “You have access to more.”
Because every new name in the Bible was a passport into purpose: Abram to Abraham—father of nations. Jacob to Israel—wrestler turned warrior. Simon to Peter—reed to rock.
And now: Unknown to Daughter. Outcast to Heir. Bleeding to Blessed. She didn’t just get healed— She got elevated.
So now, when you feel unseen— When your wounds whisper you’re not worthy— When the crowd calls you forgettable— Remember: Faith rewrites stories. And sometimes all it takes is a reach.
For the God who knows your name is waiting to call you something greater. Something weightier. Something woven in love.
Daughter.
Because your healing isn’t the end— It’s your beginning. Your new domain. Your new name.
“Are Easter bunny and Jesus best pals?” And what about the eggs and chocolate and Easter characters?! The queries of this 3-year old girl is eye opening. See her questionings here:
It is true, Easter often brings images of pastel eggs, chocolate bunnies, and playful hunts across green lawns. Fun? Absolutely.
But the heart of Easter runs deeper than sugar and spring décor.
For Christians, Easter is the cornerstone of faith—the celebration of Jesus Christ’s resurrection from the dead.
It’s not about candy-coated traditions, but about conquering sin, defeating death, and offering new life.
Beforeword: Forty years ago today, We Are the World brought together some of the biggest voices in music for a cause greater than themselves. Written by Michael Jackson and Lionel Richie, and recorded by an all-star ensemble, the song raised over $80 million for famine relief in Africa, proving that music has the power to move not just hearts, but mountains.
Since then, many have tried to imitate its magic, but none have truly duplicated its impact. It wasn’t just the melody—it was the message: unity, compassion, and a shared responsibility for the world’s most vulnerable. And looking at our world today, we need that message more than ever. Hunger, war, displacement, and inequality still demand our collective response.
We Are The World
As we mark this milestone, let’s not just remember We Are the World—let’s live it.
There comes a time When we heed a certain call When the world must come together as one There are people dying Oh, and it’s time to lend a hand to life The greatest gift of all We can’t go on Pretending day by day That someone, somewhere will soon make a change We are all a part of God’s great big family And the truth, you know, love is all we need We are the world We are the children We are the ones who make a brighter day, so let’s start giving There’s a choice we’re making We’re saving our own lives It’s true we’ll make a better day, just you and me Well, send them your heart So they know that someone cares And their lives will be stronger and free As God has shown us by turning stone to bread And so we all must lend a helping hand We are the world We are the children We are the ones who make a brighter day, so let’s start giving Oh, there’s a choice we’re making We’re saving our own lives It’s true we’ll make a better day, just you and me When you’re down and out, and there seems no hope at all But if you just believe, there’s no way we can fall Well, well, well, well let us realize Oh, that a change can only come When we stand together as one (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah) We are the world We are the children We are the ones who make a brighter day, so let’s start giving There’s a choice we’re making We’re saving our own lives It’s true we’ll make a better day, just you and me We are the world We are the children We are the ones who make a brighter day, so let’s start giving There’s a choice we’re making We’re saving our own lives It’s true we’ll make a better day, just you and me We are the world (we are the world) We are the children (we are the children) We are the ones who’ll make a brighter day So let’s start giving (so let’s start giving) There is a choice we’re making We’re saving our own lives It’s true we’ll make a better day, just you and me Alright, let me hear you We are the world (we are the world) We are the children (said, we are the children) We are the ones who’ll make a brighter day So let’s start giving (so let’s start giving) There’s a choice we’re making We’re saving our own lives It’s true we’ll make a brighter day Just you and me, come on now, let me hear you We are the world (we are the world) We are the children (we are the children) We are the ones who’ll make a brighter day So let’s start giving (so let’s start giving) There’s a choice we’re making We’re saving our own lives It’s true we’ll make a better day, just you and me, yeah, yeah We are the world (we are the world) We are the children (we are the children) We are the ones who’ll make a brighter day So let’s start giving (so let’s start giving) There’s a choice we’re making And we’re saving our own lives It’s true we’ll make a better day, just you and me We are the world (one world) We are the children (our children) We are the ones who’ll make a brighter day So let’s start giving (so let’s start giving) There’s a choice we’re making We’re saving our own lives It’s true we’ll make a better day, just you and me We are the world, we are the world (we are the world) We are the children, yes, sir (we are the children) We are the ones that make a brighter day (we are the world) So let’s start giving (so let’s start giving) There’s a choice we’re making We’re saving our own lives It’s true we’ll make a better day, just you and me (ooh-ooh, dear, God) We are the world (we are the world) We are the children (we are the children) We are the ones that make a brighter day, so let’s start giving Alright, can you hear what I say? (So let’s start giving) There’s a choice we’re making, we’re saving our own lives It’s true we’ll make a better day
The zero-sum game in love is always lose-lose, never win-win. 100% or nothing.
Love measured in fractions isn’t love at all because —
Love demands presence, not pretense; commitment, not calculation.
When one must lose for the other to win, both hearts bear the cost.
True love, like true success, multiplies rather than divides, expands rather than contracts.
The moment love becomes a competition, it ceases to be love and becomes a transaction—one where everyone walks away empty-handed/hearted.
The same is true in life—the zero-sum game in life is always lose-lose, never win-win. 100% or nothing.
Progress in life, built on someone else’s loss is not progress at all because—
True advancement uplifts rather than undermines.
When one person’s success comes at the expense of another’s dignity, opportunity, or well-being, it is not progress—it is exploitation disguised as achievement.
This is the fallacy that fuels resistance to gender equality: the mistaken belief that when women gain, men must lose.
But gender equality is not a competition—it’s a collective advancement.
A world where women thrive is a world where everyone benefits.
Stronger economies, healthier families, more just societies—these are not prizes won at someone’s expense but shared victories that uplift us all.
True equality doesn’t divide; it multiplies.
The only real win is one we build together.
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Beforeword: This piece was commissioned by a bride who was renewing her wedding vows and wanted a piece to cover her walk down the aisle. It was to start with visualizing her love relationship with God, then the love relationship between her and her husband and culminate in imagining what it would be like to have a face-to-face encounter with God.
When a piece is commissioned I usually consult with the client to get the backstory to create a piece that is personal and reflective of the context the client wishes to convey. In this case the client gave me a song as muse. On the day, the piece was narrated to that song: “I Can Only Imagine”.
Although You have proven Yourself to be true
And there is nothing else You will ever have to do to show Your love, to prove Your faithfulness
To reassure me that You are love, you are faithful, that You hold nothing from my past against me—in You I’m forgiven, renewed
What manner of love is this?
A love that loves me, restores me, completes me
Now I stand at the beginning of a path to walk
To walk in whole-completeness
In His perfect love
Fear casted out perfectly
Perfect love remains resolutely
And me—I remain in Him
Whole—a state of being
I could only imagine
And you, who are you?
Who is this man that I will walk to?
I see in you the embodiment of Christ
His on-earth love to me personified
A glimpse, a manifestation of His in-glory love for me
But I will not mistake His place for you
In my life, He comes first
For it is He who first loved me
Before you, He engraved me in the palm of His hands
Before you, He emptied Himself of everything
He gave Himself for me, for you
I walk in His love to recommit my life to you
Can you imagine?
I imagine you, my arrival awaiting
Like the church, His bride, expecting His returning
I imagine you, me, wondering what we may feel, anticipating
Will our feet allow us to dance?
Or our voices allow us to speak?
Standing still or prostrate falling?
Dumbfounded or shouts of hallelujahs exclaiming?
What will our eyes see?
What will our thoughts be?
You and me, His majesty beholding
Nothing will compare
Check the reference, if you don’t believe me:
1st book to the Corinthians, in the 2nd chapter and the 9th verse you’ll read—
No eyes have seen, no ears have heard, nor has it even entered within any heart to conceive
In the splendor of His grace
We’ll stand together, husband and wife
To behold Him face to face
I can only imagine
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Women who stay in abusive relationships often hear the same questions: “Why don’t you leave?” “Why do you go back?” But leaving isn’t always simple. The ties that bind are deeper than what the eye can see—woven from fear of retaliation, financial dependence, isolation, and the emotional manipulation that distorts reality.
Help is Available
If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic violence, you are not alone. There is help. In the US:
The Sabbath rises with the setting sun Whispering rest into the restless Calling the hurried world to stillness Never a burden, but a breath— A pause written into creation’s rhythm A covenant carved in time A gift wrapped in intention, divine
Before nations had borders Before laws were chiseled in stone Before toil bent the backs of laborers— Sabbath was God blessed the seventh day Not for one people Not for one tribe But for all who bear His image For all all who crave intimacy with the Divine
It is the hush after the storm It is the table set with bread and wine It is the gathering of hearts around sacred space It is a call to cease, a call to worship, a call to remember— We are not the sum of our labor not the weight of our worries not bound to endless striving
The Sabbath is mercy unfolding Healing hands extending— the hungry fed, the weary restored, the broken made whole It was never meant for idleness— but for goodness, for justice, for love
God, the Author of time wove rest into its fabric A holy refrain between the days A reminder that He is the source, that we are His, that the world turns not by our hands, but by His will
So, let the thirsty drink deeply of its blessings The weary find rest in its embrace The seeking surrender to its sacred peace Come O Sabbath day of rest Be a healing balm for every soul
Shabbat Shalom.
I pray you find the divine gift, the covenant of peace, and the sacred rhythm of Sabbath calling you to restoration, justice, and peace.
War broke out in heaven— Sin and hell introduced Sin took its shot A fruit bitten Hell made its move The world shifted When she bit, then he bit— All of creation groaned Sorrow stepped in Death rolled up And the grave claimed its throne
But this story wasn’t over— The script wasn’t sealed To rewrite the ending, Love itself took the field A price too high for men to pay, So love stepped forth and made a way
The cost? Astronomical! The method? Unthinkable! God offered the Lamb, without contemplation The ultimate heist of redemption
Incognito birth— In a barn, low on worth Swaddled in cloth so tattered and torn Who would have guessed, who could have known? This babe so fragile, this child so very small Would grow up to pull off the smoothest heist of them all
Stealth move after stealth move The enemy never saw Him coming First, He stole death’s grip Then, He stole hell’s keys He unraveled the chains— And set humanity free Next, He stole sin’s power, Left it broken, undone Ransomed for eternity— He declared, “It is won!”
But He wasn’t done For He stole condemnation Snatched guilt and shame Laid them at the altar, replaced with His name Like a thief in the night, love came breaking in Forgiveness for all, for every last sin
Jesus— Love in motion, pure devotion A rebel against a borrowed grave No swords drawn, no war to wage Just love unmatched, unshaken and true A love so deep, it made all things new
He robbed the grave with surgical precision Love was His weapon, mercy His mission No force, no foe, could stand ‘gainst His plan The Lamb became the Lion, redeeming every man
Death? Defeated! Sin? Overruled! Hell? Evicted! Love broke all the rules!
Jesus— Master of the smoothest heist on earth Snatching victory from defeat, deliverance at His birth Suffered a criminal’s death, changed the game Eternal love, infinite grace—we’ll never be the same
The mastermind Savior, swift and wise A thief of hearts with loving ties Not stealing to break, but to make whole To heal, to redeem, to reclaim every soul
His love was the heist, His death, the greatest score The cross was the setup The grave—the open door The plot twist? The comeback? Oh, that shook the floor ‘Cause victory—it wasn’t stolen— It was sealed forevermore
After-Word: I first started this poem in 2022, inspired by Michael Jackson’s Smooth Criminal. Back then, the working title was Smoothest Criminal—a bit risqué, but that’s where my creativity first landed. As the piece evolved, so did its meaning, and just last week, it finally reached completion. After testing the title with a few friends, it, too, transformed—becoming “Smoothest Heist”.
Heart’s rhythm beats steady for love For a love that shields, creating a safe space— Unafraid to be vulnerable, wholly free To exist just as we are, completely
You and I—broken in different ways Fragmented pieces from separate days Yet together, we synchronize in all the right places Restoring like ancient art, our brokenness erases
A love created like poetry in motion Like rivers conjoined, flowing to the ocean A journey crafting healing for you, for me Reconciled in the embrace of love’s harmony
We move by love’s essence, a force so pure— Healing in its touch, a bond that will endure Endure through time, a rhythm unexplained A love that eclipses logic, heart over brain
Give God your today and tomorrows, in Him your plans will last
***
Be encouraged through your struggles
Let go of what you cannot change
New possibilities are abounding
Reset your target-range
***
When you can’t see beyond the pain, and tears your path obscure
Focus on the Almighty’s promises, know His words are sure
Know your steps are ordered, lined-up by His design
Though weapons formed they will not prosper, they’ll be realigned
***
Be encouraged through your losses
Wave sorrow and hurt good-bye
Take pleasure in life’s journey
Through valleys-deep and mountains-high
***
When the enemy comes against you, overwhelming as a flood
Know a banner has been raised, you’re covered by the blood
Lean not on your own understanding, trust God with all your heart
Welcome each new day’s dawning, as your chance to restart
***
Be encouraged through each downfall
The good will outweigh the bad
Count the blessings, not the shortfalls
Then there’ll be no room for sad
2024 [republished] All Rights Reserved
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Mental health encompasses our emotional, psychological, and social wellness, impacting our thoughts, emotions, behaviors, and influencing our stress management, relationships, and decision-making.
Threads of thought convene
Labyrinth of mind and soul
Inner world whispers
Afterword: A haibun is composed of two stanzas. The first stanza is a prose paragraph, and the second stanza is a haiku.
My love looks better on you Like my favorite summer dress, fitted and true You always smiled in pure delight When I wore it on our many date nights
But the seasons, they changed way too fast Autumn’s chill claimed you at last Now the dress lies empty and cold Haunting stories in the memory it holds
In the whispers of the evening breeze I hear your laughter through the trees The way you wore my love, so well It echoes from where your spirit now dwells
Though you’re not here, your love remains A soothing balm for all my pains I see it in the stars above For my love looks better on you, my love
In my dreams, you wear it still, I know My love, like my dress, in memory flow The memories of how your hand clung to mine Feels like they’re escaping on wings to the Divine
My love looks better on you Even now, in skies of blue And when the night begins to fall I’ll feel your presence through it all
Until we meet where time is none And all that’s lost is once more won I’ll hold this thought so pure and true: My love was always better on you
2024 All Rights Reserved Designed with Canva Image source: Facebook Nod to Alicia Keys’s song of the same title
There, by the silence of the tomb His friend, laid low A brother in the cold embrace of death His heart overflowed with human sorrow
Jesus wept
He’s seen and known sorrow A man acquainted with grief This death ushered in a darkness too deep Burdening His soul, strangling his heart
Jesus wept
His tears fell, mingling with the earth In that moment, the world grew still As if creation itself held its breath Receiving the tears of the One who spoke it into being
Jesus wept
In His tears, a revelation unfolds— That the Almighty shares our burdens That Divinity knows our pain That sorrow, too, and grief are sacred
Jesus wept
For every tear we cry For every loss that breaks our hearts For the moments when faith wavers And the nights when hope feels afar
Jesus wept
When your heart is heavy And your cries seem unheard His compassion weeps with you His compassion stands with you
Jesus wept
In His tears is the seed of resurrection power A whisper of the dawn that follows the darkest night For He is the Light that no darkness can extinguish The Life that conquers all death
And so— Jesus wept
From “The Chosen”, Season 5.This scene portrays Jesus overwhelmed with compassion as He witnesses the deep sorrow of Mary and Martha over the death of their brother, Lazarus, His beloved friend. With the weight of His own impending crucifixion and knowing what awaited both Him and humanity down through the ages, nestled in the arms of His mom, Jesus wept.
Heart Seizing Arresting Redirecting Decisive beating Forces uncontested To new location destined Purposefully recreated Commandeered in transit awakened Heart hijacked by your love to love for love
Us— Me, you Paradise Basking in love Hearts as one connecting Standstill in moments cherished As setting sun frozen in time Strolling on the edge of paradise Holding hands the way lovers often do
Holding hands the way lovers often do Strolling on the edge of paradise As setting sun frozen in time Standstill in moments cherished Hearts as one connecting Basking in love Paradise Me, you— Us
Afterword: The poetry form, Etheree, consists of 10 lines of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 syllables.
Love a vast horizon in hearts reside unfolding always where our souls intertwine embrace possibilities endless depths of passion and grace love’s ethereal essence takes flight like birds, beyond the boundaries of hate
like birds, beyond the boundaries of hate love’s ethereal essence takes flight endless depths of passion and grace embrace possibilities where our souls intertwine unfolding always in hearts reside horizon a vast Love
Afterword: The poetry form, Etheree, consists of 10 lines of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 syllables.
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Where once it was “me and I” inhaled—now “us and we” exhaling Birthed through pangs of willing submission, full surrender On this two-becoming-one journey Starting in the acknowledgement that you are his and he is yours Two lives entwined together as one Two as one in love
LOVE …
Its timing unpredictable Its expression unmistakably mirrored in coded smiles, secret glances, gentle touches Its evolution purposed by God In the way it’s transformed you, conformed you, molded you, connected you Two lives entwined together as one Two as one in love
Afterword: I wrote and recited this piece for two of my dearest friends on the occasion of their wedding.
Beforeword: In English, whether I wish to express the intense feelings for my spouse, the unconditional tugging on my heartstrings for my child, my affection for my friend, or describe the insatiable craving pizza evokes in me I use the same word—love.
However, in the Bible there are three different words for love in the Greek, and each word describes a different expression of love: Eros is based on feelings and is me-oriented. Philia is based on shared interest and is we-oriented. Agape is Christ-centered and others-oriented.
This Cento captures the vastness of love (agape, philia, eros) as expressed by various biblical authors.
God is love. (John the Apostle, 1 John 4:8)
God so loved the world that he gave. [He gave] his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. (John the Apostle, John 3:16)
… If God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. (John the Apostle, 1 John 4:11)
And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love…. Put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity. (Apostle Paul, Colossians 3:13-14)
My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Let love … never leave you; bind [it] around your neck, write [it] on the tablet of your heart. (John the Apostle, John 15:12; King Solomon, Proverbs 3:3)
Love must be sincere. There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear. (Apostle Paul, Romans 12:9; John the Apostle, 1 John 4:
Love never ends. (Apostle Paul, 1 Corinthians 13:8)
Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it. (King Solomon, Song of Solomon 8:7)
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. (Apostle Paul, 1 Corinthians 13:4-8)
Love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins. (Apostle Peter, 1 Peter 4:8)
Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. (John the Apostle, John 15:13)
Let brotherly love continue. (Apostle Paul, Hebrews 13:1)
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In the depths of darkness where shadows reside Love will grow like a blossoming tide It seeks no boundaries no limits it derive Love will grow where’er it finds a place to thrive
In a barren land where hope seems lost Love will sprout no matter the cost It knows no prejudice, no prejudice it shows Love transcends boundaries wherever it goes
Through cracks, love will find space To bloom amidst chaos bring smile to face It flourishes in hearts both young and old Love lived is a story to forever be told
From the humblest corners to the highest heights Love weaves its tapestry, a harmonious light Dancing in whispers soft and sublime Love melodious echo through space and time
In laughter laughed and tears wiped away Love blossoms, enlightening the darkest day It nourishes deep within like a gentle rain Love renews, a healing balm to pain
Embrace love with open hearts wide For love’s eternal flame never will subside A force unyielding, love forever alive Love will grow where’er it finds a place to thrive
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Afterword: A quatrain in poetry is a series of four-lines that make one verse of a poem.
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Beforeword: Over a decade ago, I embarked on what I considered my ancestral return journey to Africa, specifically Ghana. The instant my feet touched the Ghanaian soil, I instinctively knew I was home. This poem captures that profound body-to-heart alignment. A similar alignment occurred when I later lived in Nigeria, where I was given the name Omowale, meaning “the child has returned home.”
There is no feeling like this: your body finally arrives in a place your heart already knows.
A distant land, a hidden corner, a whisper in the air, a fragrance remembered from dreams, all suddenly real, palpable.
Feet touch ground, soft and firm, hands reach out, trembling, steady. The air tastes familiar, each breath a reunion with memory.
Eyes meet landscapes once seen through the lens of longing, now sharp, clear, alive with presence.
Your heart’s echo calls, a song long unsung, now resounding in the rhythm of footsteps, of heartbeats.
Here, the soul unwinds its threads, each fiber of your being intertwines with the essence of this longed-for place.
No longer split between longing and being, you stand whole, every part of you here, now, settled into the embrace of arrival.
There is no feeling like this: a homecoming, a soul’s return, where the body follows the heart into the heart’s true domain.
The “Door of No Return” is so named because once Africans passed through it, they never returned. At this door, they were led into boats that transported them to larger ships for the arduous journey to the Americas and a life of slavery.
I first shared this as a poetic collaboration with David from The Skeptics Kaddish, who responded with a Sijoavailable at this link.
Beforeword: Today’s poem closes this week’s focus on Philautia (Self-Love).
I am a masterpiece, crafted by the hands of the Divine. Each brushstroke, each chisel mark, an echo of God’s love and precision, etching beauty into my being.
A masterpiece takes time to create, capturing all the details and intricacies— how I appeared at the beginning, is nothing compared to how I will look in the end; an evolution of grace and strength, unfolding like petals in the dawn.
I am a one-of-a-kind, a unique work of art— imitated perhaps, but never duplicated; each facet of my being, a testament to my singularity.
Precious, of extreme value, I am the culmination of God’s love, skills, creativity, and hard work, poured into this vessel of life, brimming with divine essence.
I did not create myself, my destiny predetermined, manifested by the Artist’s vision; each step, each breath, guided by celestial hands, sculpting me into my true form.
I point to the Artist’s talent, evoking inspiration to those who gaze upon me; a beacon of hope and wonder, displayed for the world to see, reflecting the glory of my Creator.
I am almost always on display, a living gallery of divine craftsmanship, each moment a testament, to the masterpiece that I am, and the love that shapes me
Afterword: This poem is drawn from a previous post in the Shabbat Shalom series, “God’s Art to Heart.”
Each day I affirm to love, To cherish the journey, no push, no shove. I release expectations of how things should go, Embrace the flow, let my true self show.
I let go of criticism, judgment too, Accepting myself, in all I do. To hold not to control, but with space to receive, In this embrace, I start to believe.
In each day love finds space to be me, In freedom and joy, I set my heart free. Worthy of love, as I stand, I embrace the love that I am.
To the woman I’m becoming, I commit To shed the past, each dark forgotten bit In every shadow where old fears might hide I rise anew—embracing joy and pride
I vow to leave behind what’s dim and worn To blossom forth, like roses from the thorn No remnants of the past will hold me back For I am bound for light, no shade, no lack
I affirm to let go of what’s untrue To craft my soul in colors bold and new No longer will I wear the cloak of doubt Instead, I’ll dance with faith and sing and shout
From ashes of the old I will arise Like phoenix soaring to the open skies With self-love as my guide my heart will shine Evolving into the woman being transformed by the Divine
To the woman I’m becoming, here’s my vow: I honor who she was, and who she is now In every step—with courage, and cheer I love myself in all stages, holding God’s vision dear
Beforeword: Whether societal pressures, unrealistic standards to past traumas or internalized self-doubt, there are many obstacles that can hinder our ability to truly appreciate and accept ourselves. In this poem, I explore the challenges one can face on the journey to self-acceptance.
What are you doing here Hiding in this place, this space, displaced Behind an image projected, true self protected, disconnected Blinding the world to see
See the true you The you who is tender-hearted, loving without abandon The you who is a little bit nutty The you who sings to every song and dances right along
The you who hurts
The you who laughs at silly jokes Who dreams in colors The you who finds beauty in the mundane Who sees the world through curious eyes
The you who feels deeply, unafraid of emotion Who stumbles but rises, every single time The you who longs for connection, authentic and true Who hides in shadows, yearning to break through
The you who writes stories in the quiet of night Who whispers secrets to the stars The you who dances with abandon under the moonlight Who finds solace in the symphony of rain
What are you doing here Hiding in this place, this space, displaced It’s time to step into the light To let the world see the true you
The you who is a kaleidoscope of contradictions Strong yet vulnerable, lost yet found The you who is beautifully human The you you love in your imperfect perfection
In the quiet of dawn where shadows stretch and fade, I find myself, whole, a canvas painted with imperfections, a symphony of scars and stories.
Eyes that have seen, hands that have held, a heart that has been bruised, yet beats, stronger with each day, in rhythm with the whispering winds.
I am the dawn, rising after the longest night, the first breath of spring, breaking through the frost, a testament to resilience, to the beauty of becoming.
In every line etched by time, in every fold and curve, I see not flaws, but the poetry of existence, a map of journeys taken, a chronicle of survival.
I am enough, in this moment, in this skin, with these dreams and doubts, a constellation of desires, a universe unfolding.
In the mirror’s reflection, I meet my own gaze, and see the truth, clear as the dawning sky— I am worthy, I am whole, I am love.
Beforeword: This week I continue with posts about love. I started with Eros (romantic love), then Agape (unconditional love attributable to God). This week I will focus on Philautia which is the love of oneself.
Self-love can be healthy, promoting self-care and self-respect (or unhealthy, manifesting as narcissism).
This week I’ll focus on healthy self-love characteristic of self-acceptance, self-compassion, and a balanced sense of self-worth. This healthy love of one’s self also comes from God for God IS love, and we love because He first loved us.
I’ve written a lot about self-love. I’ll bring back some oldies and add some newbies for your poetic enjoyment. I hope you’ll enjoy this leg of the love journey!
I don’t know who needs to hear this: but, God has a “SO love” heart for you, A heart that loves far beyond A Significant-Other kind o’ love.
God’s SO— To-such-a-great-extent— LOVE, is a die-for kind o’ love.
In the garden, He prayed, Sweating drops of anguish, Knowing the pain to come, Yet still, He chose the path for you.
And He didn’t just die, God bled for us.
He endured a crown of thorns, Piercing His brow—spilling His blood. He endured hammering nails, Tearing through His skin, breaking His bones—spilling His blood. He endured a piercing sword, Slitting His side—spilling His blood mingled with water, to save
His love, vast as the ocean, Deep as the darkest sea, Poured out in every drop by drop Of crimson sacrifice.
On the cross, He hung, Bearing the weight of the world, Each labored breath, a testament To His boundless, unconditional love.
And when death came, the earth trembled, the skies darkened, The temple veil tore in two, A symbol of the barrier broken, Our return to Him made new.
God’s “SO love” heart, A love that transcends all understanding, A love that ached and died and rose, To bring us home, eternally.
I don’t know who needs to hear this: God bled, God died, To redeem you back to Himself.
For God SO love, you, unconditionally.
Afterword: This poem is drawn from an earlier post in the Shabbat Shalom series: “God’s Art to heART”
Beforeword: Because God love us some much, His unconditional love was manifested in this way:
The Word (God the Son) becoming flesh (human) took up residence (tabernacled or pitched His tent) among us. Those who saw Him observed His glory and saw that He was the one and only God the Son, full of grace and truth. Yet He was man. John 1:14 (Holy Bible)
He was so human He could touch people
So mighty He could heal them
So human He spoke with an accent
Yet so heavenly He spoke with authority
***
He was so human He could blend in unnoticed for thirty years
So mighty He could change history and remains unforgotten for over 2,000 years
So human He was wounded, bruised, chastised
Yet so mighty He could heal from those stripes
***
He was so human He thirst and hungered
So mighty He is living water and bread of life giver
So human He humbled Himself to a sacrificial cross
Yet so mighty He gives salvation to all at no cost
***
He was so human He became sin
So mighty He could forgive sin
So human He’s like a brother
Yet so mighty He is the Savior
***
He was so human He was given a name—Jesus
So mighty His name is above all names, it saves
So human He was all-man
Yet so mighty He was and is and for always will be all-God
2023 All Rights Reserved
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Love is an action, never simply a feeling, As if we were made of thin air. I know why the caged bird sings, Love as a practice, a discipline,
Costs all we are and will ever be, We grow despite the dirt in our veins, In the flush of love’s light. Love is a combination of care, commitment,
A brave and startling truth, Love heals. Heals and liberates. It’s in the reach of my arms, An act of will, both an intention and an action.
We are each other’s harvest. It’s the fire in my eyes, Love is an infinite grace, In the certainty of our love, we speak,
Bringing the gift that my ancestors gave, Love is an enchanted, Endless mystery.
bell hooks & Maya Angelou, my inspiration
Afterword: Cento is a poem formed from lines of poems written by other poets. Cento is Latin for “patchwork,” and is composed like a collage or quilt, and honors others’ poems while presenting your unique work.
I stooped down to the ground Fingers spread across the soil Skillfully coiling, releasing Gathering piles of earth Heaping it to just the right weight Molding it into just the right shape Into the right depth Into the right height
I rounded the upper part Working meticulously Methodically, mapping out complexity Connecting over 100 billion nerves Building pathways through trillions of connections: The seat of your intelligence The interpreter of your senses The initiator of your movements The controller of your behavior
I created a finely-tuned pump Beating 100,000 times a day To serve your whole structure My crown jewel complete You, the only creation made by My own hands In my own image I declared you: “Very good!”
My declaration thundered Ricocheted off trees and mountains Echoed in vales and under waves Forever carried on the wings of winds:
“You are My masterpiece My living canvas on display My one-of-a-kind Unique work of heART I am devoted to My artistry in you Simply because I love you Unconditionally”
Forever yours, God!
Afterword: This poem is generated from a previous post in the Shabbat Shalom series, “You’re A Masterpiece”.
if I took off the mask fully unveiled me opened up my heart revealed the real me the me no one else sees could You really love me? love me just as I am unconditionally?
if I let go of the hurt frailty from the brokenness within trusted you with all of me loosened my grasp letting go and letting you would You really love me? love me just as I am unconditionally?
i’m scared, afraid, unsure but I want no more of this pain if I surrendered gave up what sustained me turned my heart over to You could You really accept me? accept me just as I am unconditionally?
the fear of being rejected that You too would refuse me constrained me kept me from receiving Your love now that I’m reaching for Your embrace would You really accept me? accept me just as I am unconditionally?
now I know how it feels when You console me like being cradled against Your heart each heartbeat reverberates— “I love you, you’re my girl” it feels like strong yet gentle arms encircling all my doubts and fears are erasing confident am I in knowing I am loved by You unconditionally
All rights reserved 2024 Credit: Designed by Canva
Afterword: an Epistolary poem is written in the form of a letter.
Beforeword: For last month’s posts I focused on Eros/romantic/erotic love mostly because June is that kind o’ love month. But because I’m so in love with love I have a lot more to say about other forms of love.The love saga continues.
This week I will focus on Agape—the love that is unconditional, sacrificial and enduring.
The Bible says this form of love is:
… patient, …kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. [This] love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. [This] love never fails.
Agape is selfless, transcending circumstances and personal gain. It is considered the highest form of love characteristic by compassion, empathy, and a willingness to sacrifice for the well-being of others. This is the best that human language can do to describe God, for God is Love. Love, in all its forms, emanates from God.
This is my poetic rendition:
Love Unconditionally
Human language falters stumbling at the edge of a love so vast beyond description
God SO loved— love in its purest form a force so powerful it demanded action not mere utterance
God gave not just anything but everything the essence of self poured out, in ultimate sacrifice
Love that bends time spanning the breadth of existence unconditional immeasurable
Under the banner of this love we stand humbled by the gift immeasurable grace the forever gift, God’s love unconditional
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Because of you, there’s a new reason for being Life is lived from a deeper meaning Living life now at a slower pace A smile more often is on my face
Because of you, my heart’s grown wide Embracing love with arms stretched high Together we face what life may send With you, my love, my heart will mend
Because of you, my soul’s set free To explore the depths of what we could be Your love, a beacon, guides me through To a life that’s fuller, all thanks to you
Because of you, now I can see The deepest side of the secret me You’ve entered my life, and helped me to be A more radiant and beautiful me
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Beforeword: This is week 4 of the series on eros/romantic love. We started with “love beginning”, then on to “love from two sides”, “love don’t die easy” and concluding the series with “love affirmation”.
Love is never done or lost
Protected, it will survive at all cost
From the highest height, to the deepest depth
Love grows in affirmation step by faithful step
***
One.
Release expectations, just let love flow
Two.
Criticism and judgment, you must forego
Three.
Love you, fully, let doubts and fears leave
Four.
Hold, not to control but with space to receive
Five.
Find space in your heart to just be—in love
When love needs affirmation, start from above
***
Repeat steps one through three
That’s when you’ll see
If ever you believe that love is done
That’s when you’ll start again at one
***
Release expectations, just let love flow
Criticism and judgment, you must forego
Love you, fully, let doubts and fears leave
Hold, not to control but with space to receive
If ever you believe that love is done
That’s when you’ll start again at one
First published 2022 All rights reserved Designed by Canva Photo: Pexels
After word: You know that moment when you’re in your feelings, and the right song starts playing on the radio?! One of my go to love crooners is the indomitable-musical-genius, Brian McKnight. So, it’s no wonder his chart-hitting “Back At One” influenced this R&B collab. Take a listen and you’ll agree he’s one of love poetry greats!
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Love don’t die easy, it’s like an eternal flame, burning bright Caught between this love and a hard place—it’s like night
In the shadows of love’s flame cast in night, still we can dance Hearts intertwined, emotions teetering—it’s a delicate balance
The storms we’ve weathered hand in hand Staying steadfast, flowing with shifting sands
Sometimes it’s a struggle, it’s a test of will Finding space in love’s resilience, loving stronger still
Though circumstances like obstacles ply the way It’s love’s persistence that guides, come what may
In the end, love finds a way through the night For love don’t die easy, it’s an eternal light
Afterword: Today concludes week 3 of the “journey of love in June” series where the poetic focus was the heartbreak in relationships. When the heart breaks, no it don’t break even.
2023 All Rights Reserved Designed by Canva Photo: Pexels
You are the love that didn’t last A fleeting flame, a fading ember’s glow The muse that won’t inspire A canvas blank, untouched by strokes The poem that won’t be authored Words trapped betwixt stanzas, lost
You are the lyrics lips won’t sing A melody confined to whispered dreams The chords fingers won’t play Notes suspended in air, set adrift The beat hearts won’t take, a rhythm-less rhyme A symphony pulsing dance in empty chests
You are the cause and cure, a paradox for sure Affliction and salvation, intertwined The horrors of screams, haunting heart Ricochets off pain, refusing to take flight The sensations of dreams, desires unmet Entwining reality and fantasy, setting heart afire
You are the love that won’t let go—tethered A ghostly presence, heart living in the past The emotions that won’t soothe, a roaring tempest trapped A whirlwind of feelings—unresolved The memories that haunt, a tapestry of what was The echoes of laughter, the blur of tears—bittersweet
You are the love lost, a closed chapter but not in vain Within ache and longing, cherishing lessons we gain In the depths of what once was, find strength, move ahead Even love that fades, leaves traces on paths once tread Cherish, then, the fragments of pieces abound Embracing the journey of love lost and the lessons to be found
Afterword: I first wrote this poem “Love Lost” as a tercet (3 lines forming a stanza).
Republished 2023 All Rights Reserved
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I choose to love you from a distance, to shield my heart from the hurt of watching you leave, leaving nostalgia and a touch of bittersweet longing
I choose to hold on to you in my dreams, that’s where you live in recollection of our laughter and whispers, etched into what will not be
I choose to hold you not in my arms, but in the corridors of memories where your presence lingers, a reminder of shared moments
I choose to let go of the illusions, to surrender expectations, to find solace, allowing the winds of change to carry away the fragments of what could have been
I choose to discover the strength to embrace the beauty of what is, untethered from the weight of unfulfilled promises
2024 All Rights Reserved Designed by Canva Photo by Pexels
“Love one another, but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls”.
Kahlil Gibran
heart-eyes blinded by love, masquerading as roses, supple red petals, edges shriveled, dried, blood-stained, fragile to the touch, breaking, breaking up, lives entangled, separating, heart from heart, disconnecting, intensity like a physical cut, detaching, like a heart in cardiac arrest, breaking, breaking out, emotions fluid like blood, discharging, toxicity free flowing, hurt, pain, regrets emptying, tears of relief, cleansing, breaking, breaking through, surrendering, exhaling, accepting, embracing, a new beginning.
First published 6 July 2021 All rights reserved Designed by Canva Photo by Pexels
In my deepest thought, I seek to grasp God, as King, oft in splendor basked Debonair, distinguished, quite dignified Air of authority about Him that can’t be denied
Universe creator, in His authority sways He works purposefully in all our days Yet, in my musings new visions come to be The free-spirited God, who dances over me
The God who rejoices, His heart set aglow With every step t’ward me, Love’s rhythms flow The God who runs in pursuit of my soul Drawing me close, making me whole
Prodigal daughter, many times I’ve strayed Love’s embrace I’ve oft times betrayed In my rebellion, I’ve wandered afar Yet He chases me down, erase every scar
With sandals snug and His robe held high He dashes to me, no distance can deny Arms open wide in a Father’s embrace Pulling me close, in His boundless grace
Now, I reimagine scenes of a Father so dear Hiking His robe, drawing near, oh so near In a mad dash of love, His arms He extend Best embrace ever—Abba’s love without end
Welcome to week 3 of the “journey of love in June” series where the heartbreak side of love is the poetic focus—“love don’t die easy”.
In the corner of this crowded room, he laughs—a sound, like summer rain, descends on me And there—his eyes catch light, not mine Telling tales of how his fingers sketch unseen dreams onto her skin, not mine
When he smiles, it’s for her, while my affection lingers, unclaimed Every whisper between them, a language I will never speak Every secret shared, a wall that grows higher, thicker, between us
In quiet hours, I trace the contours of a love that is not mine to hold In a world where he is the heartbeat and I, merely the echo He is someone else’s warmth, someone else’s promise, someone else’s always
I watch from afar, my love a silent sonata unplayed Suspended in the space where longing meets loss Left here, another heart learning to beat alone in the aftermath of love’s folly
2024 All Rights Reserved Designed by Canva Photo by Pexels
With you I am leaning into the gentler, softer side of love learning to pause to breathe to cradle the wounds to sit in the quiet spaces between the sobs and the sighs
Your softness teaches me that strength isn’t always in the march forward but sometimes in the stillness the embrace the tender touch that says, “Stay awhile, let the world wait”
Yet in your eyes, I see both the gentle rain and the raging sea for love, too, has its stormy side a fierce tempest that sweeps through the soul demanding unyielding a fire that consumes and leaves its mark upon heart’s tender flesh
We dance this intricate dance—you and I a balance of fury and peace a testament to love’s complexity a duality that speaks of love’s vast expanse its capacity to destroy and to create to burn and to soothe to break and to mend
And in this dance we find ourselves whole each step a testament to the lessons learned to the strength found in softness to the passion tempered with grace
For love is both the gentle hand and the roaring flame a union of opposites that binds us that teaches us that shapes us into something new something resilient something true
Beforeword: To experience love, one must embrace vulnerability. The true strength of love lies in the conscious choice to uplift when the fragility of another is laid bare.
There is a love that loves complete There is a love that knows complete Capable of exploiting vulnerability Yet a choice to be strength and reliability
You can unravel threads of weakness Yet, you choose to stitch the mantle of strength A conscious defiance of frailty’s call A choice to be the pillar, not the fall
Beyond the ebb and flow of emotions Beyond the absence of weaknesses Love is a conscious, deliberate choice To be the refuge, the shelter, a supportive voice
Together, love makes the choice Embracing flaws, cherishing scars Committing not to erase vulnerability But to empower each other with a resilient love laced in acceptability
There is a love that choses strength and trust In each other, the choice to receive A refuge in life’s storms, still it abides Embracing flaws, there is a love that guides
First published 21 December 2023 All Rights Reserved Designed by Canva
Beforeword: The complexities of love, and the enduring ache experienced in the waiting.
Love waits, lingers like ghost in the shadows A cacophony of wonderings in the stillness of uncertainty In the space between heartbeats, hurt takes root A stifling companion in the waiting
A tapestry of emotions woven with delicate threads A canvas painted of hope washed away by the hues of longing Dreams suspended in liquid promises Rising as bubbles, ephemeral in passing
Time, the patient witness to silent yearnings Moments on moments laiden with unspoken desires Missteps echo through the corridors of the heart The ache mushrooms, a subtle undercurrent surfacing
Hope, a fragile ember, dying A flicker in the midst of ambiguity It’s in the shifting timelines of anticipation Heart bears the weight of hurt, entangled in waiting
First published 2023 2024 All Rights Reserved Designed by Canva
Voice uttering words that assure Assure it’s gonna be okay, you’re loved, secured—connecting
I miss the look in your eyes
The intensity of your stare seeing Seeing beyond what eyes see, to know—connecting
I miss the way you listen
The way you listen to hear without Without words, to attend to what needs not be spoken—connecting
I miss the beat of your heart
The way your heart beat mimics Mimics the beat of mine—connecting
I miss the whisper of your breath on my cheeks
The depth of your exhale release Release your life force to my inhale—connecting
I miss the feel of your arms
The intentionality of togetherness encasing Encasing the distance o’er the time-space continuum—connecting
***
When I say I miss you
I mean
I miss connecting with the part of me that you are
First published 25 April 2023 2024 All Rights Reserved Designed by Canva Photo by Pinterest
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I don’t want fireworks love— fireworks shoot high, a burst of color against night sky, then fade, drift, turn into smoky grey streaks falling fast to the ground
I want a love that is steady, like the tide that kisses the shore, then pulls away softly, a rhythm as ancient as time
I want a love that is steady, like the old oak in the backyard, roots deep, branches that sway but never break, sheltering us through every storm
I want a love that is steady, like a candle in the window, its light small but unwavering, guiding you to me through the darkest nights
I want a love that is steady, a melody played over and over, each note familiar, each chord a comfort, binding us in an endless refrain
No fireworks, no bursts of temporary glory— just give me that quiet, steady pulse of a heart that beats in time with mine, day after day, year after year, until the end of forever
Is it the whimper in a baby’s cry Or the joy from laughter thrilling? Both, my dear, in love’s embrace lie, Through tears and laughter fulfilling
Is it the uncertainty in a child’s first word Or the surety of life’s final word slipping? Love encompasses both, undisturbed It’s in beginnings and in endings—connecting
Is it in the warmth of a friend’s bare-hug Or fragrant like the essence of spring-flower’s blooming? Love’s embrace, gentle and snug In bonds of friendship, hate forever eclipsing
Is it like dew drops refreshing early morn’s dawn Or evening’s sun crimson-like setting? Love’s endearment, lingers on and on In nature’s beauty, always giving
Is it flame that warms like sunshine’s ray Or the tender kiss wrapped in lovers’ touching? Love is the intertwine of passions as such, it’s A dance of fire and tenderness ever-growing
Is it in silence unspoken or whispers profound Or in words uttered out loud expressing? Motionless or expressed, love knows no bound In every gesture, love expressed is rejoicing
Does it reside in intertwined hearts’ dance Amidst the push and pull of emotions opposing? Love’s magnetic force weaves a spell so full Entwined hearts’ dance, aligned rhythms expressing
When you have felt it so, my dear, you Experience the vastness of love’s grand design Then you’ll know without a doubt—you’ll truly know Love encompasses all, the divine and the sublime
First published 25 June 2023 All Rights Reserved Designed by Canva
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I wanna love that says “I see you” Beyond body mass to the soul of my existence See the essence of me, spiritually An interconnected kind o’ love, love I comprehend you
I wanna love so close, its communication transcends words It exudes across a crowded room: “I’m with her” only She belongs to me, I belong to her An only-space-for-two kind o’ love, love I am with you
I wanna sensual love A love that caresses without touching Disrupting innards, central part of essence pulsating A whisper-light-as-breath-on-ear kind o’ love, love I feel you
I wanna love that seduces with words Touching senses in ways I never imagined Directing, illuminating my path A compass—navigating-you-to-me kind o’ love, love I read you
I wanna love that connects to the love in me A love that redefines my be-ing and existing A soul-mate-love-at-first-sight kind o’ love, love —Pray-to-God-up-above love —Live-and-die-for kind o’ love —Best-friend-for-life love —A Barry White “can’t-get-enough-of-your-love” kind o’ love —Interdependent, secure, no-matter-what-I-got-you love … you know that, —Push-come-to-shove love? —Because-you-see-me-I-am-here kind o’ love?
Yeah …
I wanna love like THAT love
2024 All rights reserved First published 13 August 2021 Designed by Canva Photo by Pexels
In the quiet spaces between breaths Souls entwine in an intricate dance Melding into the rhythm of two becoming one A harmonious convergence of destinies begun
Each glance, a portal to uncharted realms Unspoken languages in gaze to gaze Communicating the cadence of understanding In shared silence, love expanding
Time becomes an ethereal companion Landscapes of togetherness navigating Moments etched into memories, crystallized The narrative of our shared journey, immortalized
No need for spoken vows Our bond transcends mere words We are bound by an invisible tether Woven by the hands of cosmic artisans for forever
In the quiet spaces between breaths Love’s tapestry etched intimate and true The essence of “you” and “I” plus Stitched into the poetry of “US”
2024 All Rights Reserved First published 30 November 2023 Designed by Canva
Beforeword: Y’all know that kiss, right?! The one that flutters your heart in the moment and each moment after when you think of it?! The one that leaves you bounding on cloud-99 and simultaneously stumbling about all discombobulated on ground-0?! Yeah … this piece is about that kiss.💋
First published 2 November 2023 All rights reserved Designed by Canva Photo by Pexels
When I think of love, it’s more than passion’s fire It’s a gentle warmth, a hug that won’t tire Companionship, a bond that’s ever true Through joys and sorrows, side by side we grew
When I think of love, it’s exploring the unknown Hand in hand, an adventure all of our own With laughter and smiles, our hearts aligned The beauty of living life, in each other we find
When I think of love, it’s a partnership for two we embark Steadfast, a North Star illuminating paths of dark Supporting dreams, nurturing each endeavor A team of two, lifting each other up for forever
When I think of love, I think of home, a haven of care A place where love’s embrace will always be there In each other’s arms, we find solace and peace Love’s protective sanctuary, where worries cease
Love, a tapestry woven with threads divine A masterpiece of emotions intertwine A feeling that’s boundless, forever free When I think of love, I think of you and me
2023 All Rights Reserved First published 30 July 2023 Designed by Canva
LOVE! It’s been described as “A Many Splendored Thing” in poems (William Waterway). It’s the themes of movies and the hook of songs. It’s described as euphoric. It’s said we fall into it and even fall out of it. For all it’s ups and downs (oxytocin and all), one thing is for certain—I’m totally in love with LOVE!
June named after goddess Juno, fair Goddess of love’s tender flare Romance will be dancing in the air The high and lows we will share
Goddess of love’s tender flare Join me on this journey, if you dare The highs and lows we will share Of Eros love, a poetic affair
Join me on this journey, if you dare Love’s complexities we will see Of Eros love, a poetic affair In the ups and downs of loving free
Love’s complexities we will see June named after goddess Juno, fair In the ups and downs of loving free Romance will be dancing in the air
Afterword: A pantoum “…comprises a series of quatrains, with the second and fourth lines of each quatrain repeated as the first and third lines of the next. The second and fourth lines of the final stanza repeat the first and third lines of the first stanza.”
I am worthy of my own time, my own attention, my own love. I honor my spiritual, mental, emotional, physical needs. I show up for myself 100% committed. Period!
In the quiet sanctuary of reflection I find solace In the depths of my being I come to know I’m worthy
Each heartbeat a testament To the value of my existence I am worthy of my own time Amidst the chaos of life’s clamor
My essence whispers softly Echoes of self-compassion reverberate I honor my spiritual, mental, emotional, physical needs Crafting a symphony of self-care
In the labyrinth of my mind I navigate, seeking balance With each step, I affirm: I show up for myself, 100% committed
I start from the point of knowing In the sacred embrace of divinity’s grace I am a child of God Born from the essence of infinite love
Afterword: Hay(na)ku is a very simple poetic form and one of the newest. It was inaugurated on the Web on June 12th, 2003 (Philippines Independence Day) by Filipino poet Eileen Tabios (b. 1960). Three lines—L1: one word; L2: two words; L3: three words.
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Beforeword: I once said to my sister: “I’m getting old”. Her response was: “you’re evolving”. Her insightful response formed the basis of this poetic tribute to my birthday—“Not Old, Evolving My Dear”
How can two strangers come to Mean the world to each other? In the vast tapestry of existence Two souls intersect Strangers bound not by shared history Drawn in the alchemy of connection Worlds entwined in the silent language Of understanding, forging a bond that defies The logic of familiarity Their hearts resonate in a mystical harmony Painting a portrait of love profound Amid the vastness of the unknown Two strangers come to mean the world to each other
with graceful ease you gave your children life from the deepest and loveliest part of you you shaped and molded us into the strong and dark image of you with your lush vegetation you adequately provided for us you sheltered us from the sweltering sun from the bowels of your soul came treasures untold always, you make us strong—MAMA
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then the foreigners came greedy, conniving, violent, colonial powers came trampling—too dark, they say, let in light destroying—uncivilized, it’s their Christian duty to humanize killing—like animals, trophy-hunted for the gaming snatching—freedom stolen, for plantations of free labor raping—black bodies assaulted, fulfilled their sexual desire
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for hundreds of years trampled destroyed killed snatched raped but always, you make us strong— MAMA
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and there you lie MAMA open and barren your treasures stolen your body exploited your children taken to far distant shores their ancestry and identity stripped away don’t you fear MAMA
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your children are here
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we endure—never silent! we revolt—never silent! we reclaim—never silent! the blood of your children flows like river—MAMA
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our cries ascend—never silent! our tears descend—never silent! freedom—never silent! freedom is—never silent! freedom is coming—never silent! freedom is coming but that is just the beginning we can never never be silent because always, you make us strong— MAMA
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we’ve paid with our lives whipped-lynched-shot we’ve paid with our tears raped-violated-humiliated with our blood and our tears we reclaim we reclaim you, MAMA with our blood and our tears we reclaim our heritage, MAMA for always, always you make us strong, MAMA
From inventing the sanitary belt for women—liberating to the steel pan for musicians—playing to peanut as smooth as butter—spreading
Yeah … black history’s way too creatively expansive for this poem’s attempt to contain it or even fully convey it
black history IS, bombastic—it vaults the Biles o’er racist typologies
It runs Bolt-fast, dismantling discrimination o’er tracks and in fields …
Whether cotton or tobacco … whether on sidewalks, in cars or in beds …
Whether with the noose or whatever weapons they choose
Black lives being snuffed out, we shout…with the intellectual prowess of Timbuktu’s Bamba to the oratory genius of King-Marley-Gorman
We challenge isms and schisms to achieve justice, to experience one-love, to find light in the never-ending shade
black history IS, me—I am my history interdependently connected
It’s too beautiful for me not to value my worth—regardless of what others think or how they feel about me—my history says: I matter!
It’s too deeply misunderstood not to be activist
It’s too compassionate not to be treated with care, to be protected, to be loved unequivocally, no questioning
It’s too artistic in rhythm, in harmony, in melody to not sing it or dance it, orate it or play it—in all ways, though, to honor it
It’s too matriarchal not to tell her-story—from Mama Africa to children of the diaspora—separate, yet together, equal
black history IS, all-encompassing, intersectional
It’s been hurt enough to empathize with other’s stories
It’s too linked to be conceived as separate or sovereign
It’s too panoptic to not be a shared humanity
It’s a collective human story
black history IS, because we are
All Rights Reserved (1st published 2022)
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Afterword: The Septolet consists of seven lines of fourteen words with a break in between the two parts. Both parts deal with the same thought and create a picture.
A collection of writing by Dominic Riccitello — intimate conversations, personal essays, and poetic reflections on relationships, loss, and self-discovery.
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