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Government violence, stripped women’s rights, and selective outrage are pushing America toward a familiar and dangerous path. Silence isn’t neutral. It’s complicity.
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Every time I think about you being 10, my mind goes right back to the day you were born. I still see you as that tiny little human who somehow became my whole world in an instant. Now here you are… taller, louder, goofier, and somehow even more amazing. You’ve always been my little oddball,…
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The alarm sounds on her phone, pulling her out of a dream she’d been trying to hold onto. She reaches for it automatically, still half asleep, and the message waiting there makes her smile before she’s even fully aware of herself. She taps the screen with her thumb. The words glow bright in the dim…
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We are living through a moment when being anything other than white feels unsafe again. The country is slipping back toward an old fear, an old myth, an old way of sorting people that has always done more harm than good. This hits close because my entire existence challenges the idea of race. My mother’s…
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It happened yesterday, and I’m still sitting with it—the sting of knowing I hurt someone I care about. A friend. She’s a gifted writer. Her words are rich and raw, threaded with emotion and insight. But she doesn’t really see it. She often talks down about her own work, doubts herself, minimizes her brilliance. And…
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I can hardly believe you’ve only been here for three years—it feels like you’ve been part of every memory I have. Always in the background, causing mischief with your brothers, your little evil and infectious laugh echoing through the hallways. My heart has been yours, little dude, since the very first beat of yours. You…
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There’s something about sleep lately that feels more like survival than rest. My body sleeps, but my mind remains in a battlefield—stuck in the endless cycle of nightmares, adrenaline, and anxiety. And when I wake up, there’s no peace waiting for me—just another kind of war. Anxiety has become a shadow I carry, a weight…
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Even as the senses fall silent—no stars, no wind, no song—love endures, unshaken. This is a poem for the quiet moments, where touch and memory speak louder than sound, and where the heart sees what the eyes no longer can.
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This morning I had a dream and I woke up crying. Even as I write this, I can’t stop them from flowing. I can’t believe how much time has passed, how much I’ve changed, and how much I miss my old battles. I don’t miss the youth, but the friends—the family I made along the…
