Vulnerability On Display

This gift of written expression is
carefully fueled by
the pain, the hurt, and the struggles
of my past and present life.
And, the laughter and the joy
I often forget to include.

I may have a hard time
verbally getting my words out
but I can write
without stumbling or mumbling.
This blog is my vulnerability on display.

My past battles have prepared me
for my current victory.

Smell The Flowers

We are alive and well
yet we don’t live.
We’re just merely existing
with our pre-planned routines
and that’s what we call living.

We walk right past
the flowers most days
without realizing
what life is all about.
We look but forget to smell.

The Other Voice

In my subconscious mind,
I am outspoken and courageous;
there’s this lioness inside of me
expecting my overdue transformation
overtaken by my dominant quiet, vulnerable self
never scared to convince me that nothing I ever do
will make a difference in how my life plays out,
fear might have found a permanent home,
it’s been a rollercoaster journey to freedom.


It was my aunt’s job to get me to the next station
And for that selfless act, I am forever grateful.

I realize now everything else
after that point was up to me

The loneliness,
the brokenness
I endured came with the package deal.
It was only meant to last for a season.

I didn’t realize God wouldn’t have allowed any of
the madness
if He didn’t know, I could handle
the stress,
the trauma,
the sadness.

I lived as if I deserved
the kitchen sink being thrown at me
and I’d use that brokenness to feed the pain
like a migraine craving sugar, carelessly assuming I did
myself a favor by burying my purpose in the ground;
I couldn’t recognize the bigger picture.

After Death

Memories on replay.
Frozen faces.
Unanswered questions.
Lives cut short.
An endless flow of tears.
Their freshly painted smiles settle in our minds.

Death causes us to reflect
and cautions us to breathe
while we still have breath inside.
Life doesn’t appear so complicated now.

R. I. P. Aunt Paula