ON THE MILL

I live on the mill.
Somewhere down a long dirt road,
Where the coyotes love to sing.
Big green trees that never seem to end,
And in the thickest of it all,
Is where you will find my home.
It is not the most extravagant place to be,
But nonetheless, it is the best place for me.
I live alone in a cabin, surrounded by nature;
Some say, it is the best sitting porch
In all of Loudoun County.
I have the most spectacular, special view.
Every day I see the sun rise,
And I go to sleep with the moon.
On most mornings, I am awakened,
By a stubborn woodpecker I’ve named Andy.
He is the reason for why some branches,
Have come to meet their untimely demise.
I open all the curtains in my house
And immediately I am overwhelmed
By the influx of sunshine
Illuminating the inside of my home.
Thank you, I pray,
I thank you God for another day.
Another opportunity to make it count,
To make the most of this life I have.
Sometimes it’s so easy for me to get lost,
Distracted by the world once I leave my home.
Loud streets, occupied by all the friendly faces,
Bars filled with jovial men and women,
Out to have a good time.
Every weekend all sorts of people,
Celebrating their time off from work.
Do not get me wrong, I love to see it.
But not as much as I relish, the drive I make
When I know I get to go home.
That is when I get to the mill,
Farm animals eating from the ground,
Horses that I sometimes see trotting by,
Groups of white tail deer galivanting without a care,
Birds jumping from one tree to the next,
Squirrels darting across the road
Trying to avoid being hit.
If only they knew,
I would gladly let them cross in peace.
Lovely families out for a walk,
On the pedestrian paths, waving hello.
It brings me great joy to wave back at them too,
Good morning, good evening, how are you.
That is when I know, I am almost home,
A small slice of heaven,
In the now growing town of Leesburg Virginia.
I make my way down the long dirt road,
And as I follow the big green trees
Thousands of them, that lead to my house,
I am grateful to have made it back home safely.
You see, I live on the mill,
Somewhere down a long dirt road.
Somewhere the coyotes love to sing,
Overwhelmed by giant green trees,
That never seem to end.
And in the thickest of it all,
Is where you can find my home.
It is not the most extravagant place to be,
But nonetheless, it is the perfect place for me.

ON MY BOAT

I am on my boat.
The only boat I will ever have.
It is not much to look at,
But it is the only boat I know.
I sit here in the open water,
Contemplating where to go,
Looking for other boats
So I will not be alone.
But in my head there is war,
A realm that is other.
Battles being fought
Over my mind body and soul.
I can feel the fighting
Taking place when it is quiet,
The unrest I feel is civil war.
Both sides fighting for my allegiance,
The fight for absolute control.
The war between light and darkness
Must go on until the end.
One would think the decision would be easy,
To choose the light over darkness,
Because in the presence of clarity
All things that hide in the dark are exposed.
Yet most times, I align myself
With hidden things, one cannot say,
Exercised in the darkness,
Camouflaged throughout the day.
Afraid to be seen, I cover my face,
Casting shadows.
Ye thou my heart finds peace in the light,
Darkness seduces me when the sun goes away.
Tormented between wanting to be
Filled with absolute clarity,
Yet indulging in hidden secret places,
And nobody knows.
For every ounce of darkness,
Water fills my boat,
For every secret untold,
The water increases a little more.
My feet are wet, and I am afraid.
Afraid because I cannot swim,
Not these waters, not this sea.
For the waves are far too heavy,
And by myself, these waves will surely crush me.
So you see, I need my boat,
For without it, I am vulnerable.
My father said to me when I was young,
Protect your boat child,
Protect your boat,
For it is the only thing that will protect you.
It will either keep you afloat, or destroy you.
I did not listen to him,
Nor did I understand him.
His words to me were fleeting.
Though now that my father is gone,
His words have found me once more.
Maybe if I had known,
Perhaps if I had cared,
I could have saved myself some despair.
I now find myself hesitant,
Skeptical, as to what I allow on my boat.
Filtering out anything,
That does not produce good fruit.
I have spent years exercising my flesh,
Years more nourishing my body
With foods to help me grow.
I have spent over a decade on this boat,
Educating myself tirelessly.
Yet, allowing my boat to become a landfill,
A place strangers dispose their filth.
Infiltrated through deception,
I became accustomed to the smell.
My stench had become noticeable to others.
I became desensitized to reality,
Disconnected to my humanity.
You see, good fruit cannot grow in a landfill,
As darkness disappears in the midst of light.
One will always overcome the other,
As day comes about from the rise of the sun.
No matter how well you can hide in the dark,
The light will always find you.
No matter how much perfume you apply,
If you are a landfill,
The smell of garbage will always be around you.
For what is ingested, must come out,
And what is hidden, will see light,
Therefore, it is wiser to live in the day.
For the destruction of one’s boat,
Comes in the night.
So remove the waters from your boat,
One scoop at a time.
For once your boat is light
You will drift into the path of the sun.
Let the sun dry your boat,
And help your harvest grow.
Take heed and protect your boat,
For the light that battles the darkness,
Has already overcome.

THE ENDEAVOR TO ENDURE:

I set sail many years ago—
Lost at sea and on my boat,
All alone with nowhere to go,
Trying to find my way back home.

Many times, I’ve met myself
At my best and at my worst,
Just to discover someone new
Every time I went to look.

In the emptiness of darkness,
There’s a fear that comes at night—
The unseen echoes of silence
In my harrowing, desperate plight.

Because fear conceals in darkness,
In the frightening sounds of rain;
The discomfort of seclusion
In the battle to remain.

But always remember

Be not discouraged by tomorrow
When you’re looking at today.
Time neither slows nor does it hasten—
Choose to go, or choose to stay.

For I know what it’s like
To walk all alone.
I know what it’s like to be free.
In the war we all fight,
We must fight on our own—
We fight to be able to see.

Because no one can know
When the attacks will come again:
The anger, the guilt, and the pain;
The shame and confusion, depression, regret,
Hiding away from the rain.

The only means we have
To find a way out
Comes from decisions to change.
Given change obeys time
And never comes all at once—
Therefore all that we have is today.

The respect that I lost
A long time ago
From the lies that I told myself;
And the demons that came
Through the doors left exposed,
Out of promises I never kept.

Only one sunny day,
When the rain went away,
And out came the sun up above,
There they found me alone
And away from my home,
Without all my weapons of war.

Then the clouds came again,
And so did the rain.
In fear, I hid in a rock.
But the wind and debris—they paralyzed me
As I waited for the rain to stop.

But I remembered the truth
About what we see
In the darkest of clouds and the rain.
For the only way home,
And from under the stone,
Away from the guilt and the shame.

Though the storms have come before,
And no doubt they’ll come again.
As the waters fill my boat,
And it makes it hard to float.

Where to hide and where to go—
Unprotected, lost at sea.
As I watch the water grow
In my vessel, faced with fear.

Nevertheless, there is a fire
Emanating from within—
One I carry in my heart,
One that carries forth my will.

If there’s one thing that I’ve learned,
One alone that I can share,
All alone out on my boat,
Here and now, I do declare:

This is my constitution:

“I am a warrior—this I know.
In the face of war and fear,
No surrender, no retreat,
For the victory is near.”

Nevertheless,

There is a pain inside my cup,
Ordered tall and made to drink.
Where to go and where to hide
When He searched for volunteers?

“For whom shall I send? he questioned”
For the battles yet to come,
From the fight presented to me
In the warrior made to be—

For I came here on my own,
Knowing what was still to come—
On my very own accord,
Here to stay until it’s done.

If there’s one thing I am certain,
One alone that you must know:
Hold your ground when strength is leaving—
When your fire’s burning low.

For it matters not the volume
Of the faith inside of you.
All that matters is your placement—
Cast your anchor in the truth.

Therefore, everything is certain,
And redemption’s guaranteed
For the ones who keep on going
In their verdict to believe.

For I know what it’s like to keep on going—
I have done it many times before.
When there was just so much more to go,
And I didn’t want to go anymore.

I’ve tasted the agony of coming up short
In the silence of the ocean and alone—
Unprepared, with food and water,
It has happened many times before.

I’ve felt what it’s like to carry others
And to have others carry me.
The humbling feeling of disappointing—
Has long lingered at my door

I have seen my own failures
When moving on my own.
My own endurance deceived me—
A quiet reckoning evermore.

And yet,

I see how God helps me—
In the wilderness all alone.
In my endeavor to endure
The Insecurity of the Unknown

Therefore trust me when I tell you:

I know what it’s like to keep on going.
I have done it many times before.
When there was just so much more to go,
And I didn’t want to go anymore.

Nevertheless—keep on going.

THE COLORADO COLD

The days are cold,
And the nights are much colder.
Bundled up in layers, from head to toe,
Uncomfortably, asleep on the unkempt carpet floor.
My bed is an old poncho from years ago,

One my mother no longer uses anymore.

Startled and aroused by the Colorado Cold,
Today, is the first sign of the December snow.
It’s beautiful outside, it’s early and it is quiet.
My absolute favorite time of the day.

Pondering alone in the silence, as I often do,
Deep in meditation, upstairs in my rented room.
Displeased by the dreams from the night before,
Introspectively trying to make sense of it all.

It has been seventy days since I left home,
Seventy days out in the cold, all alone.
From the historic charms of Northern Virginia,
Known for its role in the Civil War.

To the beautiful Appalachian Mountains;
Small towns in West Virginia,
Home to the coal miners,
And known for the great outdoors.

But this morning, I woke up in Colorado,
Unwanted shivers running through my bones.
‘Not yet,’ I think; as I bundle up a little more.
Curled up on my mother’s old poncho,

Still, in the darkness on the unkempt carpet floor.

The cold demands I start the day,
I get up and peak through the windowpanes.
It’s beautiful outside, it’s early, and it’s quiet,
A winter wonderland on full display.

Comforted by a tall mug of warm almond milk
And I am reminded of why it is, I am here.
In the thickness of the wilderness, and in pursuit,
A drift in the middle of the ocean, out of view.

I pray I have the courage to stay,
And the endeavor to endure.

For, when the winds picked up and started to blow,
And the light drizzle turned into a heavy rain,
When the earth shook violently underneath my feet
Yet still, I remained.

In the nighttime shadows of disturbance,
In the ominous brooding of the stillness,
In the constant stifling of discomfort,
Yet still, I remained.

For the cycle of life never ends
As the human condition has always been.
The carrot that dangles at the end of the stick,
And the endless waiting for the fat lady to sing.

A life spent anticipating a big pot of gold,
A gaze affixed at the end of the rainbow.
As a result, the days turn into weeks,
And the weeks into months, months into year’s.

Never getting the chance to breathe,
A life forever spent, holding it in.

Being present has become beyond the pale,
The expectation of relief, waiting to exhale.
Always waiting for the right time to live,
Unfortunately, the right time never comes.

For the only guarantee we have is right now,
In the insecurity of the unknown.
In the seclusion of solitude from within,
A journey of discovery we all must know.

Because eventually, the beautiful cake will be eaten,
Thrown away or left to mold.
The favorite song on repeat, as awesome as it may be,
Eventually will acclimate, inevitably getting old.

For the only guarantee we have in life is right now,
With those we love, and the others we know,
Therefore, I knew the decision would not be easy
When he called me out into the unknown.

Up in the secluded mountains of West Virginia,
And into the wilderness of the Colorado cold.
Therefore, I pray I have the courage to stay,
And the consistent endeavor to endure.

Making sure never to forget,
Being right here and right now.
Adrift, out of view, and in pursuit
Faithfully anchored, in the absolute.

For, when the winds picked up and they started to blow,
And the drizzling turned into a heavy rain,
When the earth shook violently underneath my feet
Yet still, I remained.

CUT AWAY
.
In the weakness of my courage,
In the frailty of my convictions,
Hiding myself away in shame.
Disconnected and cut away,

Downcast in contradiction,
Far away from my position,
As I crumbled under the measure.
Separated and tucked away,

Still enchanted in my blindness,
Being sequestered in the darkness.
In the pain and in the sadness
Yet, I chose to look away,

Knowing sin was at my door,
Still, I chose to sin some more.
Therefore, I answered not when he called,
Isolated and locked away,

Lost in chaos and confusion,
Led astray in my illusions.
Shame debilitates the human spirit,
Disconnected and cut away,

Hidden away, in self-reproach,
Separated from the source.
Heavy laden in remorse
I covered my face and looked away,

For I could not bare to see,
The decline that was to be.
Locked away inside of me
Unaware and in despair

“You are freed from all the darkness,”
And restored into alignment,
To continue your assignment.
So be brave and not afraid.”

Look at what I’ve done, I answered.
I’m not worthy of your presence,
Turned my back at you on purpose,
Then I chose to walk away.

“Do you not know that I love you,
In the darkness and in confusion
In the chaos and illusion,
I will find you, in your shame.”

So I made a new decision
Though I’ve strayed and disobeyed.
Turned around and then I saw it,
A beautiful bouquet of floral array.

Disconnected from the earth and sky,
Taken away from the source whence they came.
Transgressions of fleeting delight,
Had rendered them into slaves; left to decay.

Henceforth, I knew they would no longer rise,
Tragically, meeting their untimely demise.
Separated from their natural source of life,
Cut away from the earth and sky,

Deprived of the winds that helped them grow,
Sheltered from the air that carried their supply.
Biding time on that dining room table,
Ephemerally being kept alive.

I heard their sadness in the air,
I hear their agony; I hear their cry.
For, it is not enough to merely survive on water,
Therefore, all journeys require sustenance.

For where the sun is, there is light,
And being connected, is the cornerstone to life.
So I say, let the bugs eat away the decay,
Let them pollinate and maintain.

Let the winds carry off their seeds into the sky,
Let them be anchored to their nutrient-rich supply.

Similar to them, I too found myself cut away,
Disconnected from my source, whence I came.
For in the weakness of my courage,
I hid myself away in shame,
Covering my face, I chose to look away.

Still, he called out to me all the more,
To be reconnected to the source.

For where the sun is, there is light,
And being connected is the cornerstone to life.
Opening my eyes to convey
His goodness and mercies for today,

No longer cut away

ALONE ON THIS CHAIR, I WRITE

It had been a decade since I last stepped into that room. I had packed the boxes myself—sealed them shut and left them to gather dust in the far corner. Back then, I did not think I would ever return. But today, for reasons I cannot explain, I found myself standing at the threshold once more. The door creaked open, revealing a space untouched by time. Dust blanketed every surface. Spider webs stretched like delicate lace across the corners. The curtains had been left open, letting in a pale, filtered light that made the room feel both haunted and holy.

I walked slowly, as if afraid to disturb the silence. In the center sat the old chair from my childhood, the one my mother used to sit on when she wrote. Its wooden frame had rusted at the joints, and the legs groaned under my weight as I lowered myself into it. I could almost see her there, pen in hand, lost in thought. Beside me were the boxes. I reached for the first one within arm’s reach. It was labeled in faded marker: Old Photo Albums – Back in the Day. The box itself was light, but the contents felt heavy. I opened it carefully, as if the memories inside might spill out and drown me.

Photographs of me reflected—versions of myself I had not seen in years. Smiling, unaware, untouched by the weight of time. I flipped through them slowly, wondering who I had become. Wondering what had happened to the boy in those pictures. Then I found it. A weathered photograph, turned upside down, worn from being handled too often. It was a picture of her—my high school sweetheart. I had not thought about her in years, not really. But seeing that photo brought it all back. The way I used to love her. The way I have not loved anyone since.

I have tried, but something changed after I lost her. I became cautious. Guarded. Afraid to receive anything that could be taken away. I still know how to love, but it has never been the same. I have not let myself feel that way in a long time. I kept flipping through the albums. In another, I found pictures of my two childhood friends, the ones I swore I would stay close to forever. We were not bound by anything more than our mutual allegiance. We liked being around one another, and that was enough. Back then, that was as solid as any contract.

Nobody tells you what growing up will do to friendship. Maybe they tried, and I just could not understand. Either way, it is already too late by now. All the bad things have already happened to me. The monsters I once imagined living under my bed came to life. They came to life, and they got me. So, I did what I thought I had to. I boxed up the young man I used to be—the one who wore his heart on his sleeve and gave his love away for free. I put him in that room, with all the other parts of me that no longer fit.

And yet, sitting there in that old chair, I allowed myself to feel again. Just for a moment. I saw life the way I used to. I visited the past, briefly, until reality reminded me I could not stay. My eyes had seen too much. My innocence had long since left. I closed the album and sat quietly. I was grateful for the visit, even if it was only for a moment. I stood up, left the room, and closed the door behind me—knowing I would return someday.

Today, I live for the moments I know that boy would have been proud of. It is the only way I know to stay connected to him. As I sat there on that chair, the same one my mother used to sit on, I understood her a little more. Alone in that room, I time travelled, visiting the past; Just as she used to.

CHARLIE, BE FREE

A wounded bird had fallen,
Outside the backyard door.
Abandoned on the concrete pavement,
Shrouded with scars from a long time ago.

Some scars were new, and others were old,
Aside from him, nobody would ever know,
His name was Charlie, and they put him in a cage,
Restricted and confined and left all alone.

“They’re fighting again,” young Charlie said.
A poisonous conflict that destroyed their home.
Never for once did they take time to see,
Just how much Charlie wanted to be free,

Unfortunately for Charlie, they didn’t know
So, he covered his ears when the fighting started,
Locked away, and afraid, in his little home,
Painfully confined In his metal cage.

It had been a while, since he had been free,
Fettered away in captivity.
He had long forgotten how to fly,
Covering his eyes, unable to see

But Charlie was built for flying
He was always meant to be free.
His wings were created to endure the distance
Over the mountains, and across the sea.

But one rainy day, as Charlie had awoken,
He noticed the metal cage door left open
Sadly for Charlie, he had made his home in a cage,
And for the first time he noticed, he was broken.

“Charlie, be free,” they shouted!
“We love you, so spread your wings and fly away”
“I don’t think i know how to,” he responded
Bowing his head in a harrowing shame.

“If you loved me like you say,
Then why did you put me in a cage?
And if you needed me and it’s true,
Then why did you leave me, when I needed you?

You hurt me and you don’t even know it,
And when you left, you left me broken.
I have tried to tell myself that it was over,
The destruction from words unspoken.

You took something from me that I needed,
Something sacred, I didn’t know how to get back,
Therefore, my world was built insecure,
My peace consistently been under attack.

So you see, it doesn’t matter what you say,
And It doesn’t matter how many times you call,
Haunted by the memories of being locked away,
And the pain from when you took it all.

So if you wanted to know why I fight you,
And why we can never get a long,
It’s because I needed for you to see,
Just what you took away from me.

The day you locked me away.

And that’s why I hate you!
Because you made me hate myself.
And I don’t know how to make it through,
Without seeing a little bit of me, inside of you.

So you see, I have been tormented from within,
Taking it out on myself, not knowing why.
Because it wasn’t until the cage door had opened
That I realized I’d forgotten how to fly.

But I am so tired of the fighting
A burden, I cannot carry anymore
I have succumbed to the yoke of unforgiveness,
And today I am letting go.”

For this reason, Charlie forced himself out of his cage
Flapping his wings, perched on the windowsill,
His wings grew stronger day by day,
Consequently, so did his will.

Hovering from the window to the dining room table,
Eventually floating from chair to chair
Soon he was finally strong and able,
Flying across the living room without a care.

But Charlie was always built for flying,
He was always meant to be free.
His wings were created to endure the distance,
Over the cold icy mountains, across the arctic sea.

“Charlie, be free,” he shouted!
“I love you, so spread your wings and fly away”
Charlie jumped off the sill and out of the window
No longer choosing to stay.

HOME ON M & WISCONSIN,
I LOVE YOU & I’M SORRY

At what point is it enough?
At what point am I allowed to let my guard down?
At what point am I allowed to say,
Hey, I do not have it all together,
But please don’t fault me because
I am doing the best I can.
Or am I a slave to my masculinity.
You see it is easy to say
Men should be vulnerable,
Go ahead and cry, be more sensitive.
But when I opened myself and let the dams break,
Dams that took me years to build,
Brick by brick, cement sealing the perforation,
Reinforced by a thick metal wall;
You judged me.
Condescending me to the place
I have spent my entire life hiding from.
It was not something you had to say.
You did not have to laugh in my face,
For me to feel the shame,
Of being perceived, less than a man.
Rather it was the way you looked at me,
The way your body language rejected me.
You did not have to say a thing,
You did not have to say anything.
For in your lack of speech, when I lost my job.
In the shrug of your shoulders, when I touched you.
In the role of your eyes, when I watched my games.
In the distance you placed between us in our bed.
You see, you did not have to say anything,
For me to know.
So I ran away, covering my face,
So you would not see my shame.
Retreating back to a place I knew,
A place I could escape to be alone.
There, I started building, rebuilding my wall,
Bigger and stronger.
More resistant to vulnerability
And more resistant to your pleas of simplicity.
For your every,
“How come we never talk like we used to.”
Every, “can you make it home on time today,
So we can eat together.”
And every “this is the third time this week,
You’ve gotten beers with your friends.”
You could not reach me, for I was behind my wall.
My wall of masculinity silenced your voice,
I could not hear you.
Instead, I got a new job, and I worked every day.
Spending my time watching games,
With other men, confined behind their own walls,
Engaged in meaningless conversation.
Hiding from you.
You tell me to come home, just come home you say,
Come home and be with your family.
Take time off and stay home with me.
Insecure by the trust that was broken,
I sank into my seat,
Discombobulated between the two worlds.
I want to come home, I really do,
But I do not know if this wall will ever break.
Even though I built it, I cannot tear it down.
It has become far too strong,
And I fear you may be too late.
But I need you, and you need me,
So I will start climbing, if you start climbing too.
And perhaps, one day soon,
We can meet each other at the top.
That way you can look down on my side,
And see where I’ve been.
And I can look down on yours,
And remember what it was like to be home.
Hand in hand, we can walk this line together,
And together,
We can build a new place, we both call home.

FREE FROM THE DARKNESS

It does not last forever

The pain and the hurt will not last forever

Eventually, the chaos will come to an end

There will be a day when the sun will shine,

And you will feel the warmth of its rays on your skin

The wind will blow in the midst of the silence

The waves will calm and the seas will be still.

I remember when the darkness came A knockin,

The aggressive knocks on my door

In the wee hours of the night.

I remember waking up in a panic just to see,

Who the hell it was knocking on my door.

I looked through the peephole to see,

But I did not see anybody there.

Naive and stupid, I went back to bed, confused.

Then the knocks came again,

Only this time they were louder.

“Open the door!” A voice said,

“Please open the door!”

Awakened for the second time,

I grabbed a weapon to go check once more.

When I looked through the peephole

Still, there was nobody there.

Deep down I did not want to see the red flags

Because it would have only confirmed my fears.

My life was in danger, and I was not prepared.

In my false sense of pride and arrogance,

I pointed my weapon and opened the door

Looking around to see who it was at my door

Still, there was nobody there.

Little did I know, it was already too late.

The moment I decided to open that door,

Was the moment I let the darkness in my home.

Though I could not see it with my bare eyes

It did not waste time spreading.

I mean it was as if one day everything was okay,

And the next day, everything fell apart

It’s like that sometimes you know,

Sometimes things just fall apart.

My world was upside down

Chaos rummaging inside on a mission,

To seek and destroy everything in its path

As I sat in the corner of the bedroom afraid

In a fetal position bracing for cover

Hoping the chaos would quench its thirst,

Hoping the darkness would soon leave.

That was when I heard another knock on my door,

But I could not move because of my fears

I had developed paralysis by analysis just sitting there,

Trying to figure out a way to run away.

But the voice inside my head said to me,

“Get up and fight, nobody is coming to help you,

Nobody even knows you are in here,

So you Might As well get up and fight”

And so I did, I got up and started fighting.

Afraid, taking one step back and two steps forward

I had nothing left to lose, and no one to fight for me.

Day and night, fighting the battle inside my mind.

Afraid and tired, I had no choice but to endure,

No choice but to keep going,

Until one day the fighting ended.

I was still swinging, kicking and screaming,

“Get the hell out of my house!”

Not realizing the fighting was over,

and the darkness had dissipated,

I opened my eyes and stopped my fighting.

I walked through the rubble to the front door

Opened it, and heard the sounds of birds singing

The sun shone brightly in the brisk morning air,

And the chaos ended abruptly.

Therefore, I confidently say to you, keep on fighting,

The pain and the hurt will not last,

It will not last forever, and eventually it will subside.

I woke up this morning peaceful.

The chaos found its order.

This morning, I woke up free.

Free from the chaos in my mind.

Free from the hurt and the pain it caused.

This morning, I woke up Free from the darkness.

STORIES TOLD THROUGH POETRY & ART