As Christmas approaches, so does my father’s birthday (December 23rd). The holidays have been more melancholy since he passed in 2018. The first holiday season without him was the worst of the bunch, and 2019 was lighter. This time around, the grief still lingers.
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Valley of Shadows (a poem)
He traversed the valley for days
seeking the ancient one who’d provide
nourishment to his ailing soul
words from a holy mouth that
would unlock secrets of his inner-being –
sloshing through thick mud, the traveler perceives him
through the fog –
the figure of the ancient man
glowing, golden in the valley of shadows.
(Photo by John Joumaa on Unsplash)
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Suicide Prevention: Please, Don’t Give Up
I recently got some bad news that a friend of mine from recovery suddenly passed away. He was only 32 years old. As these dark pandemic days drag on, I felt I needed to write this post to process my emotions.
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Everyday Saints
I was a mess in college.
Two years before I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, I was enrolled at a university in New York with somewhat of a life trajectory, a moral compass, and many good qualities.
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What Heaven Looks Like (a poem)
You forget there are places like this:
A quiet bay with still water and a wide expanse,
the sun shining in a cloudless blue sky, and
seagulls calling overhead.
From the sandy shore, you watch the old man
cast a fishing net and the teenagers lounging
with headphones on.
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