Let joy sneak up on you Like the first breath of spring after a long winter Like an old song you forgot you loved
Let wonder catch you off guard Like a child chasing fireflies Like laughter spilling out at the wrong moment
Loosen your grip on what must be Let the unplanned The unexpected The beautifully uncertain Reshape what you thought you knew
Not everything needs an explanation Not every step needs a map Some of life’s best moments arrive unannounced, wrapped in the ordinary, waiting to be noticed
Let life interrupt your plans Turn left when you expected right Not every answer is yours to hold Some things are best discovered in the space between knowing and not knowing
So open your hands Open your heart And, Stay surprise-able
Facebook reminded me of this post I made on that platform in 2019!!!Different platform, different dates, but the sentiments of the message remains the same — stay surprise-able!
Heaven is not still. Not now. Not when the hourglass is down to its last grains of sand.
The throne room pulses, electric with anticipation, the atmosphere thick with expectancy. The angels shift in place, their coronation songs echo in celestial halls. They know their next cry will not be soft, but a trumpet blast so fierce it will shake graves open, call sleeping saints from their slumber, and send the living skyward their burdens abandoned in the wind.
And there—on the edge of His throne— Jesus leans forward. One foot planted in the courts of heaven, the other pressing against the rim of the earth. His gaze is locked on a world unraveling, His hands grip the armrests, His voice a whisper beneath His breath: “Father, is it time?”
Heaven holds its breath.
Guardian angels stand at attention, hearts pounding with urgency Rehearsing the stories they will soon tell— of unseen battles, of near-death moments turned miracles, of the countless times they blocked, protected, shielded, intervened, and whispered: “Hold on just a little while longer.”
Below—chaos is raging.
The earth is squirming in agony— its bones fractured by quakes, its lungs scorched by fire, its veins flooded by tsunamis and storms. Cities are crumbling, nations are falling, war drums thundering, famine spreading, and the air is thickening with the stench of genocide, infanticide, suicide.
Men’s hearts failing them for fear— fear of the unknown, fear of the inevitable, fear that the darkness is winning. Lawlessness rises like smoke, murder stains the streets, red Despair grips the souls of the broken.
And hell? Hell is unhinged.
Demons are moving amidst the earth without restraint, their assault — reckless their attacks — relentless because they know their time is just about… up.
And heaven? Heaven is about to move.
A white horse stands ready. Its rider breathes in the last moments of waiting. He’s about to exchange His ministering gown for Kingly robes, clothed in righteousness, His eyes ablaze with justice, His name inscribed for all to see: King of Kings! Lord of Lords!
No manger this time. No wooden cross. No crown of thorns pressed into his brow.
This time, He rides in power! This time, He comes in glory!
The sky is about to shatter like glass, The heavens will soon roll back like a scroll, and the sound of His name will shake the foundations of the earth.
Every knee will bow— willingly or by force. Every tongue will confess— in joy or in terror.
And in that moment, when heaven and earth collide, eternity will kiss mortality, sorrow will be swallowed up in defeat, the grave will lose its victory and the King will gather His own— Thundering the words they have longed to hear: “It is finished! Welcome home!”
Hold fast. The King is on the edge. The command—“Go! Go get My children!” That time is almost… now.
To the woman that you were— I see you. Standing in storms that tried to break you, yet you bent like the willow, never snapping, never folding. You held your ground, turned pain into power, turned silence into voice, turned fear into fuel. I admire your resilience, your unshaken resolve, your quiet strength when the world tried to tell you to hush.
To the woman you are— Your journey is not complete. But oh, how far you’ve come! You walk now with wisdom earned in fire, scars that no longer bleed but blaze— reminders that you lived, that you learned, that you are still here. You hold space for growth and grace, shed doubt like autumn leaves, rooted deep in lessons you once feared. You are the bridge between who you were and the promise of who you will be.
To the woman you’re becoming— You are a whisper of dreams realized, a vision not yet fully seen, but I know you’re there, waiting. A phoenix rising, a story still unfolding, a force stepping boldly into her becoming. You carry all that was, but you are free to be. No chains, no fear, no limits— only the boundless sky ahead.
Beforeword: Whenever multiple planets become visible to the naked eye, it is often referred to as a planetary alignment. On the other hand, a planetary parade describes the breathtaking phenomenon where planets appear to form a “straight line,” as if marching in unison across the night sky. This cosmic event is usually of 4, 5 or 6 planets but 7 is quite rare. On 28 February 2025, 7 planets perfectly aligned, displaying the grandeur and harmony of the universe, a fleeting spectacle that connects us to the vastness beyond our world.
This shadorma captures the essence of this rare cosmic dance across the February 28th night sky.
Planetary Parade
Mercury
Plus Mars, Jupiter,
Uranus
Neptune joined
Rare—seven planets aligned
Venus, Saturn too
#Shadorma is a six-line (sextain) poetic form with a syllabic pattern of 3-5-3-3-7-5.
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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Today, millions will watch as two teams battle for supremacy on US football’s biggest stage—the Super Bowl. It’s a contest of strategy, resilience, and sheer willpower, where overcoming the opponent is the ultimate goal. But beyond the field, another battle rages—the fight to overcome the noise, pollution, war, hypocrisy, and fear that permeate our world.
Love cannot simply exist passively in the atmosphere
I was struck by fellow blogger Yassy’s poem that challenged the well known adage “love is in the air” by, in essence asking: or is it?! She does so by painting a stark, unfiltered picture of current reality. A reality where the air seems to be permeating with everything but love. It’s a poignant reminder that love cannot simply exist passively in the atmosphere; it must be cultivated, lived, and made tangible.
I was also struck by a verse from the Bible which happened to be something I read today as well. In a world so aptly described in Yassy’s poem, the Bible offers this antidote: “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” (Romans 12:21). And other religious texts contain similar message about overcoming evil with good.
Love must rise louder than the chaos
Just as teams fight to outplay their opponents, we are called to outlive, outshine, and outlove the darkness around us. Love must rise louder than the chaos, transforming not just hearts but the very air we breathe.
If love is in the heart, then it must also be in our voices, actions, and presence—overcoming hate, fear, and injustice. Love is not silent. It does not retreat. It sings, shouts, and clears the air.
This reflection inspired my poem, using the #Dectina Refrain form:
Love Lives Loud
Heart Beating Love resounds Drowning out hate Piercing the darkness Cutting through hopelessness Rising beyond warplanes and lies Spreading joy, light, displacing fear Truth cleansing air, shifting atmosphere Heart beating, love resounds, drowning out hate
Heart beating, love resounds, drowning out hate Truth cleansing air, shifting atmosphere Spreading joy, light, displacing fear Rising beyond warplanes and lies Cutting through hopelessness Piercing the darkness Drowning out hate Love resounds Beating Heart
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Before-word: On the morning of 1st February my phone rang. My heart knew instinctively it was no ordinary call—but I was not prepared for this: “Betty passed.”
Elizabeth “Betty” Talbert, Country Representative for the United Nations Population Fund, Caribbean Subregional Office. May her soul rest in eternal peace.
In processing life’s highs and its lows, I often turn to words. This time was no exception—not just to mark the passing of a life, but to offer a reminder to those of us left behind.
Serving as international civil servants is no small feat. It takes its toll on our bodies, our families, our lives—and yet, amid it all, there is life.
This is not just a tribute to a life lost, but a call to live fully in each moment, to honor the gift of time, and to remember that even in death, we are reminded to cherish living and life.
In Her Memory, We Live
Life is fragile— A delicate thread stretched too thin, woven with moments that slip through our fingers like grains of sand too swift to grasp. The pulse, the breath, so sure in its rhythm one second, then faltering the next.
Death—in its physical form— a stillness that steals the breath, leaving nothing but the echo of a once beating heart. It doesn’t ask permission— it simply arrives, uninvited, claiming the space we once occupied and leaving us with nothing but memory to carry the weight of what was.
But there is a death— one that creeps in unnoticed, the slow fading of light, the quiet erosion of self— the death of the spirit when the spark of divinity is dimmed, and the soul wanders in a vast, empty place where prayers fall silent and even faith grows tired.
Then there is a death— a withering of joy, a loss of hope, a weight of sorrow that bends the spirit and the heart beats only because it must. You stand in the ruins of yourself, facing a reflection you no longer recognize, and wonder when you became a ghost in your own life living in emotional death.
The end of connection, the severing of bonds that once held you close. A love that once bloomed now wilts under the weight of words unspoken, of wounds too deep to heal. When the silence between you grows louder than anything you ever shared, and the phrase “you’re dead to me” lays the foundation for relational death. It’s a slow farewell to everything you once built.
Death, in all its forms, takes what it pleases, but it also leaves the quiet aftermath where nothing is ever truly the same.
Still, in the ashes of loss, there is the possibility of rebirth. For even in the deepest shadows, there is the promise of light, the faintest glow on the horizon, the hope that tomorrow, we rise again.
For the truest death is not the one that steals breath, but the one that robs life of living, the one that leaves us standing still, afraid to move toward the light that still calls us home. It is the death of hope, the quiet surrender of our dreams, the moment we forget to reach beyond the shadows that loom o’er the only true life— the courage to keep moving, toward what is yet to come.
“When death finds you, may it find you alive.” (an African proverb)
Before-word: At the start of Black History Month (USA), this is a declaration of self-worth—unapologetically claiming space and authenticity in a world that rushes to erase difference. In a time of deliberate pushback against rights, equality, diversity, and inclusion, this piece stands as an affirmation: We are enough. Whole. Complete. We belong. And we are undeniably deserving of the rights that are inherently ours—by virtue of being human.
I am enough. Not almost. Not maybe. Not if only. Not someday. I am already—enough!
I have enough of what I need to be the exceptional me Not a watered-down, shrink-to-fit version But the bold, distinctive, unstoppable me
I am enough! Worthy of love that doesn’t come with conditions Worthy of acceptance that doesn’t ask me to edit myself to fit someone else’s visions
I am enough! Every piece of me—flaws and all—God-stitched Created in brilliance Imperfections sculpted into strength I’m not here to erase or to apologize
I am enough! I won’t fade into the background Or try to fit into someone else’s selfie when I was made to standout in my own spotlight— That’s why I won’t dim my shine
And when the world tries to measure me by numbers, by titles, or by expectations I will remind it:
I am not defined by the weight of opinions or the shifting tides of approval
I am not a sum of my scars a reminder of my mistakes or a static product of my past
I am the story still unfolding the light that keeps shining the melody that won’t fade
I will not apologize for the way my laughter echoes like a song too bold to be silenced or for the way my body, my presence take up room I will not wait for permission to own my voice, to own my space, to own my destiny
I am enough! Enough is not the bare minimum— It is abundance It is power It is truth It is waking up whole even on the days I feel broken It is standing tall even when my knees tremble
So here I stand—out: Unapologetic. Proud. Unshaken. No more proving. No more waiting. No more asking permission.
As I stand As I breathe As I be I am enough—just as I am The effervescent, quintessential Me
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If these walls could talk, Their voices would crack like the floorboards beneath your feet, Worn down by years of footsteps that carried love and loss in equal measure
They’d tell of love, The kind that lingers in the scent of Sunday dinners, The faint echo of a lullaby, The creak of a rocking chair swaying long after the baby’s grown
They’d hum with the rhythm of life— Pulsating with the heart-drum of a family piecing themselves together, one imperfect day at a time
They’d whisper of quarrels, loud as thunder at the time, but now softened like rain, falling gently, nourishing the roots of forgiveness Voices raised, slamming doors, but always opening again with hands reaching, arms wide, inviting— “Come back, sit down, let’s talk”
Broken-down boards, their edges splintered but still holding steady
Leaking ceilings, stubbornly letting light drip through the cracks
Rusted shingles, their jagged edges like scars, each one a story of resilience
Stripping paint, layers peeling back to reveal every shade of life lived inside— a kaleidoscope of memory
And yet— Inside regales of a beauty that still blooms Faded wallpaper like the backdrop of dreams Grandma’s patchwork quilt draped over the couch Stitched together from cloths of generations past Created by hands that believed in warmth, in home, in staying
If these walls could talk, they’d tell you this: Even in decay, there is grace Even in ruins, there is history And even when the frame sags under its weight, a house holds its beauty in the love it has sheltered
So listen— To the silence that speaks volumes Listen to the cracks that echo strength listen to the walls that have always stood, not for themselves but for the stories they protect If only these walls could talk
Like Martin Luther King: “I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear”.
His words are oh so relevant in these times:
“I’m concerned about a better World. I’m concerned about justice; I’m concerned about brotherhood and sisterhood; I’m concerned about truth. And when one is concerned about that, he can never advocate violence. For through violence you may murder a murderer, but you can’t murder murder. Through violence you may murder a liar, but you can’t establish truth. Through violence you may murder a hater, but you can’t murder hate through violence. Darkness cannot put out darkness; only light can do that”.
Taken from MLK Jnr., “Where Do We Go From Here” speech.
It was an ordinary night the kind where stars whisper and the earth gently exhales A stable, no different than any other smelled of hay, sweat, and animals— not a palace, not a temple, just a room for the overlooked
An ordinary girl barely more than a whisper young, tired her heart swelling with both fear and faith An ordinary man steady, unsure trying to make sense of a divine plan that didn’t seem to make sense at all
Shepherds ordinary men with dirt under their nails watching their flocks used to the dark and the humdrum of silence never expecting the heavens to tear open with jubilation
And yet— in the ordinary extraordinary light broke through A star, brighter than reason daring to blaze where no star had blazed before An angel joined by a heavenly host declaring the birth of the extraordinary
Wise men called from distant lands following whispers of destiny written in the skies Gold, frankincense, myrrh— gifts fit for a King, cradled in a manger
The extraordinary gift of salvation wrapped in the fragile skin of a newborn the hope of eternity cradled by hands still learning their strength
And now, we stand on the edge of the same choice— to stay in the ordinary the safe, the unnoticed, the blend-in-and-fit-in life Or to step into the extraordinary the blaze-your-trail-walk-on-water-rise-above-the-noise kind of calling
Extraordinary is our design! How then can we fit in and stand out at the same time Step into the gift of being set apart Dare to dream beyond the dust to reach for the stars to bring heaven closer to earth
Christmas reminds us that the One who shattered the ordinary called us to the extraordinary
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Don’t die before you’re dead. Don’t let the grind of days steal the breath from your spirit Or the weight of worry cement your feet in place When death finds you Let it find you alive Let it find you with fire in your eyes With laughter tangled in your lungs And songs swelling in notes to the skies
Live. Live with joy like it’s a rebellion A refusal to let the darkness win Smile wide enough to crack the walls of your fears Let your curiosity roam untamed Chasing the edges of the horizon Like a child who believes the ocean is endless
Be audacious. Speak louder than the silence that tries to hold you Dare to dream when the world says, “Be small” Dance, even when the music is only in your head Run toward the things that scare you Because courage is not the absence of fear— It’s choosing to live fully in spite of it
Speak out. Don’t bear the agony of an untold story, not told Your voice dying within you, unheard Don’t sit still, pregnant with potential Never to give birth to your purpose Speak the truth etched on your soul Let your words carve pathways for others Let your gifts see the light of day A buried dream is a tragedy the world can never mourn
When the clock ticks Don’t just count the hours— Make them count When the seasons shift— Don’t mourn the leaves that fall, Celebrate the seeds you’ve sown
So when death comes knocking Let it find you alive Not half-lived or worn down by regret But shining with the audacity of a life fully embraced And the joy of knowing you left no moment unlived Don’t die before you’re dead
Afterword: The inspiration for this poem stems from: the proverb, “When death finds you, may it find you alive,” and Maya Angelou’s powerful words, “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” These are part of my life motto and together they form the foundation of my “Why I Write” declaration, driving me to live fully and to ensure my voice is heard.
Love one another with brotherly affection (Romans 12:10) Bear one another’s burdens (Galatians 6:2). Encourage one another and build one another up (1 Thessalonians 5:11) Live in harmony with one another (Romans 12:16) Forgiving one another as God in Christ forgave you (Ephesians 4:32)
Outdo one another in showing honor (Romans 12:10) Be at peace with one another (Mark 9:50) Through love, serve one another (Galatians 5:13) Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ (Ephesians 5:21) Let us stir up one another to love and good works (Hebrews 10:24)
Bear with one another in love (Ephesians 4:2) Confess your sins to one another, pray for one another (James 5:16). Do not grumble against one another (James 5:9) Welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you (Romans 15:7) Love one another, just as I have loved you (John 13:34)
Clothe yourselves in humility toward one another (1 Peter 5:5) Teaching and admonishing one another in wisdom (Colossians 3:16) Do not speak evil against one another (James 4:11) But exhort one another daily, while it’s called today (Hebrews 3:13) And above all— Let us love one another, for love is from God (1 John 4:7)
Afterword:
One of the greatest blessings of holidays like Christmas is how they bring us together, reminding us of the power of community and connection. But what if we extended this spirit of togetherness throughout the year? Would our homes, communities, and world be filled with more love? Would we see peace on earth and goodwill truly extended to all people?
The Bible is rich with “one another” statements—guiding principles that call us to live in harmony, serve with humility, and love unconditionally. These statements remind us that we are not meant to navigate life alone; they can only be fulfilled with… one another.
This cento weaves together these timeless “one another” verses. Though written over two thousand years ago, their message remains strikingly relevant today, offering a blueprint for unity, love, and hope in our lives and our world.
“Purpose drops in our laps as if the heavens threw it by accident” like a star slipping out of orbit like a word spoken out of turn yet somehow exactly what was meant to be said
It falls— heavy as a stone in still water light as a feather floating on the wind carrying weight and ease in equal measure
We don’t always know what to do with it— this gift disguised as a burden this question wrapped in the skin of an answer Do we cradle it like glass, fragile and precious? Or do we let it burn our palms, carving its truth into our skin?
The heavens may play coy but there are no accidents here Purpose lands exactly where it is supposed to— in trembling hands in restless hearts in the laps of those who thought they were sitting still but were actually waiting all along
It whispers: “Carry me, even if you stumble. Shape me, even if you break. Live me, and I will make you whole.”
Purpose drops in our laps as if the heavens threw it by accident
Afterword: A speech by Deshauna Barber delivered at an alumni event at the University Maryland global campus was the muse for this piece, inspired from this line: “purpose drops in our laps as if the heavens threw it by accident.”
I loved you long before I met you the sound of your laughter like the wind whispering through trees
Love is the rain we chase in summer the sound of bicycles rolling on cobbled streets a rhythm steady, like breathing
You are my confession my memories pressed in the pages of time
We are the poem that never ends the spark to light the night
There is no yesterday without you no tomorrow without us
Rest In Power Nikki Giovanni
Afterword: Prolific autor and poet Nikki Giovanni passed away today (December 10, 2024). She’s been a voice of change in the black power and black art movements. This tribute poem is based on her New York Times best seller “Bicycles: Love Poems”. It’s not quite a cento (I needed more time to write that) but it borrows from her work mainly on love—my favorite muse! Though she’s gone, love rolls on.
In a world we all know too well Women’s bodies bear violence—scarred A contested space, a battleground Where autonomy is a forlorn wish Where choice, stripped away and silenced, becomes A ghost of it’s once true self Where home is where the harm is How can love unfurl its wings? How can dreams find light when darkness lingers Where safety should sing?
For one in three women—intimacy’s touch turns violent Every 10 minutes—for one woman—intimacy’s touch turns turbulent As love’s promise becomes the cold hand of death With no right to say no, no right to say yes— When to bear life or when to hold it close Their own bodies betrayed by laws and customs, imposed Written by hands that will never know The weight of their words, death sentence proposed
Rape—A Weapon of War
In conflicts that rage beyond borders Male invasion, rape—a weapon of war—a tool, a tactic Conquering women’s flesh like spoils While in the hollow halls of the United Nations Resolutions inked by men with pens, spill Like blood, staining sheets Emptying hearts of life’s own source Yet, still, governments choose steel and flame Investing in war machines, no peace to gain Conflicts on women’s bodies play out, the ultimate price paid
Uprooted!
Uprooted! from their soil Women and girls drift like leaves falling from withering trees Their homes lost to gunfire, to flood, to flame Their world, quaking, shifting beneath their feet Displaced by war, exiled by climate’s rage They wander borderless, unanchored Carrying memories of lands once called home Searching for safety in a world, fractured No longer their own
New Dawn, Reborn
But now, imagine a dawn Reborn
A world rebuilt from root to sky Where hands that hold are only gentle Where bodies, once haunted, are fully free Imagine a world where choice is sacred Where every woman’s voice rings clear Her body is her sovereign land A place of power, of life, of joy
Imagine girls, unafraid to play With futures bright as the skies above And women, unbroken, now as rooted as trees No longer the spoils of collateral damage No longer bent beneath a burdened silence No longer survivors, but whole Free to choose, to create— They thrive
A World Beyond Fear
A world beyond fear, a world that is just Where equality stands as tall as the sequoia And equity flows as long as the river of the Nile Here, love needs no pen to promise, no ink to spill Every woman, every girl In freedom walks, unbounded— Potential fulfilled, a force unchained in change
Afterword: This poem commemorates the 16 Days of Activism Against Gender-Based Violence (November 25–December 10). In it I reflect on the injustices faced by women and girls globally, from violence in their homes to the denial of autonomy. It envisions a future of safety, equality, and justice, calling for action to uphold their rights and dignity. This is my life’s work!!
Written for W3 Poetry Prompt. Sarah Whiley, Poet of the Week, challenges us to write a poem inspired by the theme—free using the Dectina Refrain form. When I think of FREE-dom, one speech comes to mind: MLK’s “I Have a Dream”. This iconic speech was delivered on August 28, 1963, during the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, at the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C.
This poem is in tribute to FREEdom—that it’s not just a dream but the reality for every person, everywhere.
Beforeword: A colleague with whom my friend co-chaired an internship program for students for over 25 years suddenly passed away. Now, standing before her students, their sad eyes looking back at her, she finds herself comforting them, holding back her own tears because, as she told me, she needed to be the adult in the room.Unable to be there to console her in person, I wrote and read this poem for her, hoping it offers some comfort from afar.
Read along and listen to: “Even The Adult In The Room Cries”:
How long will you stay caged in the could-have-been the should-have-done the moments you let slip through your hands?
How long will you wear the past like a collar like a weight that pulls you back like a shackle that stifles breath makes you small makes you stay?
The past is nothing but a paper tiger— it has no growl, it has no bite If you but move t’ward the light feel the warmth on your skin each step a defiance each breath a reclaiming
Regret may whisper but you are louder, still You are the breaking of chains the choosing of joy the walking away You are bound only to the future— where you run free where you rise where you live life, Unleashed
As autumn deepens— night stretches its long fingers pulling darkness over daylight ushering in longer, colder spells inviting leaves’ hidden hues once veiled to blaze forth in defiant, spectacular display they reveal splendors previously cloaked by summer’s green grasp a kaleidoscopic spectrum of colors unmasked as if they had swallowed sunsets waiting for their moment to exhale fire
Afterword: I’m a big fan of David Attenborough. This poem is influenced by one of his recent posts and associated photograph.
Help me, Most High, to live each day, so I can truly, humbly say:
I loved You with my whole heart And followed the path You set apart I chased my dreams with fearless stride Rising each time that I stumbled or cried I won some battles, lost a few But never settled for less than what’s true
I was kind to all I met Gave my best, without regret I was loved, and I loved well Laughed in joy, in sorrow dwelled May my joys outlast my sorrows And my triumphs light tomorrows
If I closed my eyes, then woke to find Life had slipped like sand through time I pray I’d lived a life rich and deep No regrets, my soul in peace to keep
I don’t know the end, the path ahead, unclear, but I will trust You, God, for You are always near. In the silence, or the storm, when shadows seem to press, I’ll walk in faith, not by sight, and trust You—nevertheless.
When doubt whispers lies, and fear clouds my view, I’ll cling to all You’ve promised, for I know Your word is true. When the world around me shifts, and I’m tempted to digress, I’ll anchor in Your love, oh God, and hold firm—nevertheless.
For You are the beginning, the faithful, guiding light, Though now I see through glass, darkly I know You’ll make it all, right. In victories and trials, in joy and deep distress, I’ll lift my eyes to heaven, and praise You—nevertheless.
So even in the tarrying, when answers seem delayed, I’ll rest within Your timing— I’ll no longer be afraid. I surrender all my striving, and leave behind the guess, I’ll follow where You lead me, Lord, trusting—nevertheless.
In the quiet park, I sit and breathe A goose glides by, casting its shadow beneath The river flows with high tide’s rise Reflecting the blue of endless skies
A wedding unfolds near the evergreen trees Laughter and vows carried by the breeze Sun rays dance on faces aglow Warming the scene with a golden show
Parents and babes, love tenderly shown In their own worlds where dreams have grown I watch it all in quiet delight The park turns tranquil as day turns to night
the kind passed down like heirlooms, a quilt of belonging, a patchwork of sacrifice stitched with hands that remember
Hope is laughter—
the sound of breaking cycles, the release of generational restraints off children who grow strong under the instructions of those who came before
Hope is political—
a movement, a pulse the fight for more than survival it’s claiming the right to thrive, for equality in power where power means change
Hope is social—
woven through our communities a collective will to lift each other to build bridges across time and dismantle the walls of what was once thought impossible
Hope is me, you—
vessels of dreams untold a reflection of ancestors’ prayers carrying their strength in our bones we are the bridge, the builder, the keeper of this flame that lights the way for those yet to come
Hope is the affirmative action of generational wealth—
more than money, it’s memory, it’s possibility, it’s dreaming in color, releasing hands that will build futures far beyond the limits of the past
Not going somewhere to happen, not chasing the next … For purpose, on purpose, in the now to invest Not bound by tomorrow, nor haunted by past But rooted in moments that matter and last
Each breath is a choice, stepping into your own The journey unfolds, though the path stays unknown No waiting for destiny to knock at your door Live in the fullness of now, nothing more
The future will come, but today is your stage To live without worry, unchained by the age For purpose, on purpose, each second a gift Stand in the present, poised for the shift
So here in this moment, rise and shine Live with purpose, embrace the Divine Tomorrow’s not promised, there’s no guarantee This moment is all to be all you must be
In stillness and surrender, I find my way Where numbness wraps me, there God will stay In moments weak, when shadows fall His presence lifts, embracing all
Perfection is Not My Aim
Not a chase for perfect, not a polished being But in my flaws, my truth is seen To manage imperfection, to embrace it all Owning my flawsome, without a flaw
Transformation is Selfish and Hard
The path to change is hard and steep To let old selves die, to lose and weep For the woman I’m becoming, I will strive In selfish toil, I keep alive
The Author
God holds the pen, He writes this tale of mine He scripts and re-scripts, line upon line With bravery bold, my truth I will carry A vision, though delayed, know it will not tarry
For the vision is yet for an appointed time; But at the end it will speak, and it will not lie. Though it tarries, wait for it; Because it will surely come, It will not tarry.
Afterword: Written for W3 prompt. Thanks to David for hosting and Sarah Whiley for the direction: the word is soar, the form is Elfje.
An ‘Elfje’ counts as five sentences in only 11 words. This is how you do it:
Line 1: One word. This word symbolizes a colour or feature. The word symbolizes the atmosphere.
Line 2: Two words. These are something or someone with this colour or feature.
Line 3: Three words. Giving more information about the person or the object. You describe where the person or the object is, who the person or what the object is, or what the person or object is doing. This sentence usually starts with the word ‘he’, ‘she’ or ‘it.’
Line 4: Four words. Here you are writing something about yourself in relation to the person or the object. This sentence is your conclusion.
Line 5: One word. This word is called the ‘Bomb.’ It is the essence of the poem.
A Dectina Refrain is a poetic form written with your syllables going: 1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10. The 10th line is comprised of the first four lines all together as one stand alone line which may/may not be in quotation marks.
Wait—time stills, shadows fade, hope takes its place.
A Dectina Refrain is a poetic form written with your syllables going: 1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10. Your 10th line is comprised of your first four lines all together as one stand alone line which may/may not be in quotation marks.
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
Long before I met you I knew you And every counterfeit who came before you I tried to dress them in the image I had of you But they would never fit because they were not you
You who saw beyond what can be seen You who saw me in my flaws, my vulnerabilities, my full truth You who saw me completely, and You loved me, as I am—intentionally
Your love is unexplainable, it just is It is the essence of you It is your soul It envelopes me completely, as you love me intentionally
Beforeword: This prayer was written for the christening of my Goddaughter based on the meaning of her names—Diana Elizabeth.
Diana It is decreed in your name: Heavenly, Divine Heavenly angel you are, dispatched from the Divine May your spirit never wander from the righteousness of God And your footsteps stay anchored in the pathway of His love May your eyes see unknown tomorrows and lived yesterdays And your spirit be discerning of thoughts and intentions of hearts May your hands be never idle And your feet bring tidings of good news May your mouth always say gentle and kind words And your heart overflow with joy, peace and love
Elizabeth It is decreed in your name: God is abundance In you is everything God created you to be You will be the head, and never the tail A lender, and never a borrower You will be above and never beneath Who ever intends to curse you, shall bless you instead You will be exalted in your coming in and in your going out Whatever may intend to bring you harm will be subjected under your feet
As it is said, so shall it be Diana Elizabeth This is our prayer for you
A collection of writing by Dominic Riccitello — intimate conversations, personal essays, and poetic reflections on relationships, loss, and self-discovery.
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