If you read my last post you know every week of 2025, I will be releasing a letter processing my grief. I will release them on Saturday mornings by 11am. This blog post is one of consistency and obedience . I have felt God say share my pain, so here I am doing just that; but it has come not without much struggle. I shudder to share the depth of me with strangers let alone those I love. It is one thing to be honest and another to be vulnerable- shout out to Tim Ross from the basement for that gem.

Behind the writing

Today’s grief letter will come in the form of a poem I wrote last year. As a spoken word artist for over a decade, writing is more than an art, it’s a practice. A way of being and a way of coping. I am most vulnerable in my writing, and when I write I don’t think- I do. And the contents of me spill out. I don’t try to rhyme but it happens. I am not trying to write a poem , but I guess over the years, my pain often comes out in prose. Writing often reveals me to me. It shows me what’s been deeply embedded finally rising to the surface. I have often said I have a love/ hate relationship with writing because it forces me to resolve what’s undone; to fight through to the end, to find the purpose I cannot yet grasp or see.It rears truth’s ugly head, things I would rather suppress; yet it promises me if I write on, something good awaits me on the other side of my pen. without further adieu- this poem describes my deep wrestle of desiring people’s acceptance and accepting me.

The ocean of me

I wish I didn’t ache so much,

Wish my soul would just find a quiet and quaint place

And wall myself into normal and ok

But I’ve been hiding too many secrets in

And now my spirits full to the brim

And I feel my secrets I thought locked 

Deep below, bursting at the seams

Vulnerability, is that you I see?

This splashing tumbling overflow of things

I can no longer hide from… Me

These waves of timidity washed away by the steady tide of certainty

Drawing deep from the from the unmeasurable depths of an ocean

But often turning stones into sand

Those rock’s unrecognizable lie soft 

Malleable, molded by my hand

And now you stand caressed by the warmness of my waves

I can now see why those stones were thrown at me

Although I didn’t see them coming

Or understand why I wasn’t given words

But men skipping stones on my shore 

All just for sport

How I wanted to be more

Tried to lure you in

But I was mocked for my depth

And when the coolness of my being hit your tepid skin

You pulled back when all I wanted was something that drew you in

I wondered why I always felt misunderstood

In my strength I could destroy ships and cause men to tremble

Yet inspire awe and wonder at the horizons embrace

I stand here daily patiently waiting my escape

Let the shallow parts of me greet those close to the shore

But only to those who have the courage to wade 

Are granted the privilege to savor my depth

Oh to those brave enough to enter my shore

I’d let this love hold you, float you

Fill confidence in those lungs of yours 

And trust, love will be poured back in

But woe to those who see clearly where I lack

The jagged edges of plastics left from a past poisoning 

Those beautiful gifts of life made to dwell in me

But the Creator told me, you were coming

He who made my frame and told my shores 

Where they can  end and begin again

He stayed, showed me all of me 

was not meant for one but many

That loves comes in many shapes and forms

But that this love would be unique

He made me believe that someone could love the courser parts of me

And still appreciate all of me

I have struggled so often with my being because I am an ocean

Trying to fit into sea

So I choose to be free

I still watch, as they stand on my shore

Waiting to see anyone brave enough to 

Wade into this version of me

I still wander if someone could hold 

The lightest and softest parts of me

Or is that meant only for me

 I asked God for an answer

And he said nothing

For I was not made for knowing

But simply being