Wednesday, August 7, 2013
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
They say there’s a light at the end of the tunnel,
But right now I am walking around in the dark.
Before moving on, I leave an obvious mark.
I can’t even see my own hands and feet,
The contrast is none too stark.
I am hoping of any type of illumination,
A lighter, a match, a spark.
I once heard a woman say, there’s a light at the end of the tunnel—
Just hope it’s not a train.
She experienced the darkness of cancer and chemo,
But during treatment, did not once complain.
Just as the sun always comes out
After the clearing of the rain,
It’s always a wonder how such stories of beauty
Can originate from a place of deep pain.
There is a light at the end of the tunnel
I see it happen every day.
This does not mean that dark days will no longer exist,
Or all your troubles will go away.
But it is encouragement for you to hang on and stay in there
As the winds of life cause you to sway.
So, each time you hear this overused phrase,
Take it to heart and know, it’s going to be okay.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
I’m sitting down, attempting to focus, and trying to write my thesis.
Accompanying me are my mug of tea, headphones, and Reese’s Pieces.
I space out and dwell on the love affair between chocolate and peanut butter.
Man, I hate Nutella. The thought of tasting it makes my taste buds shudder.
‘Oh yeah,’ I think, ‘I’m writing this paper,’ as I stare at the blinking cursor.
I begin to wish words would just magically appear—a writer’s block reverser.
I select the header and type the running head, failing to get ahead with this paper.
What if I just drop out, take to the streets, and live my life as a penny scraper?
Thursday, April 5, 2012
After leaving the convenience store,
It was later made evident that Trayvon was shortchanged.
One-hundred-forty-pound kid versus a 250-pound heavyweight?
Sounds like some sick handicap fight had been arranged.
Black face versus white face;
A baggy hoodie versus fitted apparel;
Skittles versus bullets;
AriZona Iced Tea versus a barrel.
His girlfriend on the phone suggested he run;
He decided to merely put his hoodie up and walk faster.
If only he knew his stalker had a gun,
Maybe he could have dashed and it wouldn’t have ended in disaster.
We are all too familiar with this weapon of racial profiling—
Day after day people shoot off the gun of ignorance,
Loaded with the bullets of hate,
Leaving us with the scattered shell casings of anger.
If The People don’t wake up and the powers-at-be don’t change,
Our society is surely headed down a path of even more destruction and danger.