When it’s over

Every ending leads to nostalgia

Inside her lives a mountain of memories and a lifetime of hopes and what ifs.

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With new Eyes

Sometimes I leave in the middle of a poem

I let my mind ferment

Bask in my heart

Glide with silence

And my return becomes a new arrival

Lessons from the Sun

I think about the patience the sun has with the earth. The way she moves and makes sure every inch of the earth receives a little bit of sunlight. I strive to have that kind of patience. To leave a little light in everyone I meet and everything I touch.

Writers of color

There is no greater remedy than soaking my hands in the arcane corners of my mind.

The Syllabals I’m breeding dance in rhyme.

I find the revolution in my words.

Gradually, a rebel is born.

Death isn’t the end

We always come back.

In the night breeze that kisses your skin.

In the trees that grow a little taller than the rest.

The songs that catch our hearts before our attention.

In every child that looks at us in bewilderment.

In the flowers that know the true powers of the sun.

Amongst the crickets and sounds of moving cars.

We always come back.