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:: XXVIII. Grams

Realizing it has been some time since I shared my OWN writing. I decided, to switch it up and do just that. Coming to a point in my life where I am accepting that I have to step beyond myself to truly grow as God’s Plan intends. I am, slowly, but surely, making these silent moves to realign myself and elevate myself to newer frequencies. It is beyond time to LEVEL UP *as Ciara would sing.* Make my lessons, blessings. “No losses, just UPGRADING.” And on that note, as part of this “self” journey – a never-ending journey of self-betterment – I share an oldie but goodie from my days of Cornell. Having had the opportunity to take a course that focused on the crafting of not only prose but short-story writing, I was able to dabble a bit in areas of my writing that I felt could use some improvement. Though it isn’t the finest gem in the bunch, it is still a gem. More importantly, it is a gem about self-discovery. So, without further ado, I share, my piece, titled F(I)VE.


I didn’t know what this would be. I was prepared for the worst before the damage was done. Yet, it was a storm that never came, dissolved ever as quickly as the onset of its humbled beginnings. And so, it was… a shift in tide. At least, that is how it was said to be. But, the lingering residue from what could’ve and, in some blessing in disguise, shouldn’t have been persists in the depths of my very guarded mind. Rising every so often to haunt me and remind me of lost moments in time.

So, now I push. I push them back into the guarded vaults of my mind. Slowly shutting the door behind me, I keep the key in my hand, waiting…for the moment to lock it all away. Feeling the day pressing nearer and nearer, I still cling to what I know will never be. Hoping secretly that the change in tides will resort back to the normal rhythms that nursed what could’ve been.

Somehow, though, nature knows best. Changing tides, on purpose, to new lands more unbeknownst than the lands I barely explored. Keeping a gripping hand on moments that shouldn’t happen, nature turns the tides away from storms that will most certainly end in destruction. Sparing minds, souls, and hearts while effortlessly avoiding wasted time, nature, like a mother, points a stern hand in direction supposedly better.

For some reason, even with the guidance, the will, or rather pure desire to go against the changing tides rises like the sun, with a burning intensity that even a camera can’t fully capture. And not unlike Shakespeare, the question arises, to swim against the tide or not to swim against the tide, rests heavy on the mind. Finding a solution to this question is made even more difficult with the desires and hopes for something that, by this point in time, shouldn’t be. Where then can the answer be found when the heart is clouded with hopes and the mind with desires? Searching in the foggy seas with the changing tides wearing down the body, the progress made towards the very something that shouldn’t be is hindered. Finally, with the changing tides intensely growing stronger and stronger, the progress is brought to an immediate halt.

Saddened and weakened, water slowly flooding the lungs, the realization that the destination sought isn’t the destination in which to dwell, a small moment is taken to dig deep. Deep within the other various closed vaults of my mind, I find, back again, what was there before the storm never came: a deeper love. It was something that wasn’t unpredictable; it was planted in me with the strong, and at times, tired hands of my mother. A self-molded independence; an independence that existed without the presence of you. A self that was nearly threatened and lost to the lure of your mysteries. A self that was me without you.

That is when I pushed – again. I pushed it all back. Finding just enough strength to reach the surface for a breath of full air; I let the changing tides take me to newer, unknown shores. As, the shore I sat upon briefly, collecting one or two, at most, keepsakes, wasn’t my cast away.

Nor was it yours.

And so, it is.

And, just like, I shared a lil’o’bit about “a lot.” Between the lines and hidden hues of the words, I explored. Uncharted territories – especially at that point in my life when this was written. More familiar now with some of those uncharted territories, I still find myself, at times, needing to come ashore to re-collect before venturing off again. Ebb and flow. That’s the way it has been.

So, it will continue to be.

As per always, READ.



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f o r • e v e n • m o r e . . .

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