Amends To My Muse

Amends To My Muse

Oh, Muse
Forgive my prolonged evasion
We were companions once
You and I
Invariably sharing
Observations
Elucidations
And, when I freely pondered
You answered, eloquently
This, our repartee
You, and me

And then
I began to avoid our encounters
Keeping only breviloquent discourse
Then, subtle nods in your direction
Until, finally, nothing at all
Our concord only a distant memory

It was not by design, you see
But for the sake of brevity
My attention split into fragments
Of paternity and every responsibility
An exhausting helotry
Impalpable perspiration 
Dampening the wick
That once lit my imagination
And so
I resigned myself
To that
Barren
Paralyzing 
Mindscape

And yet
Have I not seen you?
There, in the periphery?
Patiently waiting for me
To fortuitously notice
To restore our harmony
And welcome you back
With familiar embrace?

Yes, I've heard 
Your voice in the morning birdsong
In the words of my son, reciting stories
And the patter of raindrops on fresh leaves of green

I have seen you
Dancing with my daughter's loose tooth
Unfurling the blossoms, awash in color
And in the soft shine of silver moonlight

I've felt your presence
On the soft, light-speckled footpaths in the forest
In the panorama of hallowed Civil War battlefields
And in the warm breath of my sleeping children

There you have dwelled
In my simple joys
There you have dwelled
In the fissures of my hardships
Bursting out of my mind
And into the din...
The declarations of the sufferers
The bluster of political hysteria
The trumped up election
The Black Lives
Toppled bronze statues
And bleeding schools

In connubial bickering
Preschooler stand-offs
Restless nights
Tight clothes
Gray whiskers
And backaches
Delirium
Doubts
The earnest things
The petty things
You were there
In the distractions
But more so, in between them...

There, you have dwelled
In the quiet places
Between truth and belief
Amid the atoms
And the ticks of second hands
Ready to materialize
From space and time
If only I beckoned

Oh, Muse
I call to you now
Hoping you attend to me
For who will tell my story?
Who will be my confidant?
Celebrate my victories?
Bemoan my travails?
And study the times?
Who will illuminate
Fading memories?
My friend...
You are my voice
My vision
Please, come and
Dwell within
So that we may speak 
Once again

JMC
5/22/18
(c) 2018

You Are My Son, Shine!

You Are My Son, Shine!

You are my son, shine!
And let the whole world
See what we so often see
The loving smile of
Our precious baby boy
A contagious radiance
That fills every corner
Brightening the hearts bearing
Witness to your light laughter
And primordial tongues

You are my son, climb
The tallest mountain
Just as you scale seemingly
Insurmountable staircases
With confidence and persistence
You will achieve great things!
And if you should stumble
We will be there, behind you
To hold you, just as we did
The night you were born

You are my son, time
Will certainly pass by
And someday you will grow
Stronger than your Daddy
Sillier than your Mommy
A staunch sibling to your sister
But, for now you are One
And that is all you need to be
Clinging tightly to my legs, or
Snuggling in your mother’s arms

You are my son, find
Everything that brings you joy
Jump and dance
When the music plays
Sing and shout
When you greet the day
Always be yourself
Without reservation
Without doubt
You are wonderfully made

You are my son, divine!
For JAH has been generous
Establishing your place
In this family of mine
You invite us to be happy
You teach us to be simple
You remind us to be kind
We give thanks for you, Isaiah
Amid the wintry months
You are our warm sunshine!

JMC
1/8/16
(c) 2016

Play On (In The Key Of G)

Play On (In The Key Of G)

She stands there with a gleam in her eyes
The silver metal of the harmonica
Folded in her tiny hands
And she smiles…
The type of smile that
Pulls and stretches across her face
The type of smile that probably hurts
But is unavoidable

“Daddy!”
She laughs in excitement
Then she brings the instrument to her lips
And joyfully blows 
A cascade of notes that pour into the air
Sounding like a mad organ player
Or an accordion flopping down the stairway

Her legs follow suit
Marching in wild, erratic steps
Off balance, and nearly toppling over
But she’s clinging to the harmonica
With all her might
And drawing notes through the reeds
With a ferocity 
Reserved for one possessed...

After all, she was spellbound 
Pulled in, as soon as she heard it
How could she not be?
When I was enchanted the same way
Back then, when I was a child...

She played on and on…
As a bubbling stream of
Both shrill and warm notes
Began reverberating between 
The confines of the moment
And deep echoes of the past
And instead of my kitchen
I was suddenly back in his...

He took two harmonicas down
From the top of the harvest-gold fridge
One for me, one for him
I probably wore the same face as my daughter
Eyes gleaming, a beaming grin
The hard plastic case of the Marine Band
Was placed into my hands and 
When I opened it, I could see
Matthias Hohner peering up from 
My reflection in the shiny cover plate

My grandfather took his and
Cupping his large hands around the harp
Spun out a medley of
Italian folksongs and 
Stephen Foster compositions
Giving me permission to join in 
Signaling me to blow or draw a note
With his pointed finger
While we played the
Chords and melodies of
“Oh! Susanna” and 
“Old Folks At Home”

We would play on and on
As my Grandma watched, smiling
We would play on and on
As I showed off for my parents
We would play on and on
As my brothers tugged my legs for their turn...
We would play on and on
For guests, relatives, celebrations
He would play
And I would play

I would play on and on
Becoming more nimble at
Blowing riffs beneath melodies
Breathing and blocking, while
Tasting the wooden comb
Swollen from salivating, and
Playing until the edges of my mouth were raw
I would play on and on
Yet never quite master the way
He would play a dancing tarantella 
Deftly shifting scales on his chromatic
I would play on and on...
Even after he passed on...

I had to play on without him...
I mourned him through the moody
Wistful rhythm of the Blues 
Bending my notes to infuse
Williamson, Walter
Wells, and Cotton
And when I had forgotten
How to live in the positive
I found my way back
From Talking Blues, like
Lee Jaffe on a Marley track
Resting my roots in reggae
Finding my voice like Dylan
Instilling pieces of 
Composed memories and
Explored aspirations
Into my own identity
I was finally ready to
Play the same song
I had learned long ago
But in a new style
It had been a while
So, I played on...

She played on and on
Parting the curtains of time
Pulling me back in like a note
Squeezed through the reed plate
“Daddy!... ah you ok?”
I forgot to play...
And so I did

Who knew that 
I would find him again
In my dear daughter
Just shy of two
Copying my every move
Vigorously playing 
The harmonica I gave her
Slapping the spit out
Against her leg
Cupping her hands
Waving her fingers
Prancing behind me
From room to room
Our own parade
For Mama and brother

Turning around
I stop to kneel down
And looking into her eyes
I see him
As we play a medley of
“The ABC’s” and 
“Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star”
Us three...
Together, in the key of G

Our doors to each other
Are unlocked by keys
Played on these
Marine Bands and Blues Harps
Our Gemini hearts
Born on Special 20’s
Together, we will play on and on...

JMC
5/20/15
(c) 2015

Written as a tribute to my daughter and my grandpa, both having birthdays on either side of mine:
May 21st - My grandfather, the late Edmond Gioielli
May 22nd - My birthday
May 23rd - My daughter, Makeda

I Am That Tree

I Am That Tree

How fortunate of me
To be that tree
Planted by the water
My branches heavy with
The fruits of my love
My son, my daughter

The countenance of my wife
Shines upon my life
Like the warm sun 
And her affection 
Will never cease, like
The morning dew on my leaves

You see, I grew from a seed
Planted and received
In arable soil
A royal garden where
I rose in the shade
Of ones greater than I

My roots reach down
To the riverside
Where Jehovah abides
In the constant waters
The birds nest in my crown
I’m surrounded in song

I am tall and splendid
But without the roots
I would bear no fruits
Without the stream
My leaves would cease
From spreading green...

I will never be cut down
I shall not rot or whither
Even in the year of drought
I have no doubt
That I am that tree
Planted by rivers of water...

JMC
5/22/15
(c) 2015

A Great Love

A Great Love

Behold, a great love
Exists between this mother
And her dear children
There is no power on earth
Able to separate them

Her presence alone
Subdues this uncertain life
With a constant love
Her daughter dances with her
Her son seeks her warm embrace

She'll love them beyond
The ends of eternity
This is their mother
Who once held them in her womb
Who holds them now in her arms

They’ll never outgrow
The size of her beating heart
They’ll never outgrow
The home she has made upon
The pillars of family

JMC
5/10/15
(c) 2015

Livicated to my wife, my Empress, and mother of my beautiful children. Her love is a Great Love! Written in honor of her motherhood and the motherhood of my mother, mother-in-law, and all of the mothers I know. Their love is a Great Love! 

Melodies Pure & True

It was about two months ago, a few weeks before our son would be born, when my wife and I were driving in the car with our daughter who was 19 months old at the time. During that short ride she did something that caused us to be both amazed and overjoyed, and ever since then this miraculous moment has now become an everyday occurrence (almost an “all-day” occurrence). Though it all started on that day when we first witnessed a simple miracle of word, sound, and power.

It starts and ends with music. Music is a big part of our lives and so we find occasion to play it almost anywhere and anytime, especially on our car rides. On that particular day we were playing an album that I had frequently put on while putting my daughter to bed. As we were listening, we suddenly heard another texture to the music, something like another voice adding to the mix. My wife and I looked back, and to our great surprise, saw our daughter singing and harmonizing with this one beautiful melody. Mind you, this was no simple nursery rhyme either. It was a rich piece of music with many elements, layers, and vocal harmonies. Yet, here was our daughter singing the words with perfect annunciation, perfect tone and in perfect time! She had been using a variety of words and speaking her own brand of melodic gibberish for some time, but this was very different… she was actually singing!

What made this moment even more special was the fact that this was such a wonderful tune to hear our daughter sing. It was a song about love. Love for a child, love of family, love for the Most High God, and one filled with gratitude.  While we listened, a verse came forth from her lips in perfect clarity. “Oh how I love you, oh yes I love you! My precious baby, you mean so much to me!” She sang loudly with a smile of satisfaction. Then as the album continued, other songs and phrases emerged like, “I love you baby, so overwhelmed by your beauty… It’s an honor to feed to you, a privilege to take care of you, a joy to hold you, and a blessing to have you… Each and every day, I do find time to pray, thanking God the Father for you my precious daughter!...”

The songs came from an album sung by Marge Blackman along with her family members and friends. She comes from a family of musicians from Trinidad & Tobago who sing in a style called Jamoo, or JAH Music. If you’ve never heard of it before then it is because it belongs to a unique niche in world music and I am fortunate enough to have a little collection of these hard-to-find albums.  Jamoo could be described as a rootsy blend of calypso, soca, reggae and Caribbean folk with spiritual and uplifting messages. We used to play this album frequently even before our daughter was born. In fact, it is actually titled “Songs for the Womb and Beyond” and I owned it long before I was a married man, or had even thought of becoming a Dad, just because I loved the music and the style. 

Playing the album on that day opened up a musical floodgate. Songs spill from our daughter’s mouth almost as quickly as she hears them with her ears. It is simply amazing to learn how intently she’s been listening to the music and what she is picking up from it. She is grasping language so quickly and putting words together with ideas and abstract thoughts. Although she doesn't know exactly what a song may be saying, she hangs on important words and their associations, repeating phrases and feeling the general vibes of the whole tune, dancing and soaking it all in. Witnessing this has proven two things to me. First, that one cannot underestimate the abilities and the awareness of a young child, and second, one cannot underestimate the power that music has on people, even very young people. It makes me wonder what would happen if I was playing music with less substance, or lyrics with foul and crude language. What type of impact would it have on my little daughter, and now my newborn son? How could I not be ashamed if they repeated demeaning and dirty lyrics, or mimicked some inappropriate pantomime? Unfortunately, I’m not sure if every parent thinks this through until it happens. 

Toward the beginning of this month of February my family (along with many millions more in the world, I'm sure) celebrated what would have been the 70th Birthday of Bob Marley, the man who carried positive and life-giving music all across the world. Every time I reflect on that car ride, and the days since, a verse from one of Bob’s most famous songs comes to mind. “…Three little birds upon my doorstep, singin’ sweet songs of melodies pure and true, sayin’ this is my message to you-ou-ou…” I love that line. Melodies pure and true… yes, that is what sustains me. Everyone has their own taste in music and whatever else that grabs them and brings them to life. However in my own universe, and in the world I’ve created for my family, we surround ourselves with music that builds us up and fills us up with love and strength, with purpose and confidence. Music created from positive vibrations. Roots reggae, or sounds of polyrhythms and languages from all over the African continent, Jamoo, soul, and world music that give thanks and praise or speaks truth no matter what nation it originates from. This is the music of our lives and the beat that we march to. I feel so satisfied and happy to see the impact it already has on our young daughter, singing these sweet songs. And I give thanks for the melodies pure and true, because music is life. In the words of Mr. Robert Nesta Marley, play I some music!...

JAHsh

And Yeshua said unto them, “Yea, have ye never read, ‘Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings Thou hast perfected praise’?” - Matthew 21:16

I Wonder

I Wonder

Upon my shoulder 
You rest so gently
And I wonder
Who will you be? 
Will you remember?
The way you clung
To me so tenderly
Will you remember?
These moments
With Daddy

We dance to lullabies 
Sung in every tongue
And I wonder
Who will you become?
Will you remember?
The stories I told
The dreams I spun
Will you remember?
These nights
With Daddy

I place my hands on
Your mother's belly
And I wonder
Who will you be?
Will I remember?
Waiting for you
My sweet baby
What will you look like?
I can't wait to see
With Mommy
Your sister
And me...

JMC 
1/8/15
(c) 2015

I Dare Not Be Ungrateful

It has been some lean times. As a nation, most of us are in the same boat economically: unemployment, underemployment, rising costs of living, etc. It is no great wonder then, that the stress of uncertainty sometimes weighs on me and my own family. Being the parents of an 18 month-old daughter while expecting our second baby in January, we know that our livelihood is about more than just being comfortable, but about providing a happy and safe home for our children. Lately it seems harder to manage and stay afloat. Our income is actually less than it was when we were first married due to circumstances and of course a pregnancy that limits job opportunities. At times we worry about paying bills on time, accumulating debt, fixing things in our home, and saving for emergencies and for our future. We know that we just can’t afford certain things, especially during the holiday season, when people are bombarded with advertisements to buy everything and anything. It can be quite taxing on the soul, and the body. It can cause a disturbance in the home and restlessness in our sleep. At least, that is one way to think. 

Notwithstanding all of the very real worries that we have, as a family we have so much to be thankful for! First, we have each other. My wife and I vowed to walk side-by-side though the hills and valleys on life’s road. It is comforting to have this companionship. Some families have a hard time enduring the stress and people often forget their commitment to one another. We have our health, and our unborn child is growing just fine! Many people struggle with chronic illnesses, or have children with developmental problems, and they do not have the means to treat them. We even have great health benefits and insurance due to my job. We have a roof over our heads! In fact, we own it, so we have home equity! We have food on our table! Even when we can’t necessarily afford to buy it ourselves, we have family that helps provide for us! There are hundreds of families in my community who have to depend on food shelters or churches just to have meals for the week. We have employment! Even though one of us is underemployed, we still are earning an income that more or less sustains us. We live in a safe community, where there is no crime and where we don’t have to worry (within reason) about robbery or gunfire! We have luxuries! We have running water, electricity, (which most people would say are necessities), we have cable television, we have possessions!

For all of these things, I give thanks. When I compare all of the blessings that we have to the worries and problems that we carry, it is almost embarrassing. My Uncle’s family lost their entire home in a fire last year. I have a close bredren (Rastafari brother and friend) who has been struggling with unemployment for several years now. I have family members and friends who are battling disease and health conditions. I have friends who live in neighborhoods and in cities where there is severe distress and where crime affects their livelihoods. I have students who are homeless, who are struggling with drug abuse and absence in their families. Even if I had all of these burdens, which would be hard to imagine, I have the air to breathe, water to drink... I have life! During these “tough times” (it seems funny to say now), I remember to wake up in the morning and give thanks to JAH for not being the worst. I give thanks for all of the little things that we have. When I lay my daughter down to sleep, I pray with her and give thanks even though she does not yet understand (although she does say “Amen”), because it is important that we acknowledge our blessings and good fortune. I dare not be ungrateful to JAH, Yahweh, Jehovah, Rastafari... because that would be an affront to all of the blessings that my family has received from HIM. 

Thanksgiving... yes, I know as a student of history that the first Thanksgiving is not necessarily the glorious moment that we celebrate in American mythos. I will not get into the socio-historical controversy here, because that is not my current message. I will however celebrate this day by truly giving thanks on a personal level. I will celebrate it as a day where I can join my family and extended family, break bread, and honor the Most High with a joyful heart! I truly believe that every day should be “Thanksgiving” (sans the overeating), but I am thankful for the tradition that puts a pause in our busy lives and a reality check to our woes and instead reminds us that life is precious, life is good, and we need to celebrate it! I give thanks to JAH Rastafari, to Iyesos Kristos, to Selassie I, for all of the elders and ancestors who guided the human spirit. I give thanks for all that I have and I dare not be ungrateful! Selah!

Give Thanks,
JAHsh

La Dolce Vita

La Dolce Vita

I knew that very night as I first gazed at you
Across the dinner table in flickering candlelight 
Because the vision of you made my heart imbue
With a love true, beating anew upon first sight

That was four years ago, not long, although
If I unravel time to 2,103,840 minutes
And count every second within it, you will know
That every moment we’ve spent together is infinite 

Like when we stood as one before JAH and men
To become wife and husband, or when, patiently
We waited to meet our radiant daughter, and again
We now soon welcome a new member of our family 

We know this has come because we chose each other
We sing a Song of Songs akin to Solomon and Sheba
For we’re lovers, husband, wife, father, and mother
And with you and me it will always be, La Dolce Vita

JMC 
11/19/14
(c) 2014

What A Joy

What A Joy

I vividly remember
The instant you emerged 
From your mother's womb
And into the hospital room
There I stood... in awe
Beholding my newborn
And after receiving you
I introduced you to our world
My daughter, my Makeda
What a joy to see you!

You were once so little
That you were able to fit
Neatly into my hands...
For the rest of my life
I will relive those first days
As I held you against my chest
Amazed that your mother
And I were your parents
My daughter, my Makeda
What a joy to hold you!

It began when your eyes
Met mine for the very first
Time, would soon show us
The dawn of your sweet smile
And after awhile we heard
Your laughter fill our home
As my heart burst full of
Love for you and your mother
My daughter, my Makeda
What a joy to know you 

Each day brought us a new gift
I was surprised when
Slowly, sounds shaped into
Your first words: Mama, Dada
And rhythm allowed you to
Move and dance, standing
Then taking a chance with
Finding your first steps
My daughter, my Makeda
What a joy to watch you!

Now, twelve months with you
Have become a year and
Soon you will walk beside me
Speaking to your Daddy
There's so much to discover
You, me, and your mother
Have a lifetime together, and
You're our love at the center
My daughter, my Makeda
What a joy to teach you!

JMC
5/23/14
(c) 2014

From Four Corners

From Four Corners

He emigrated from the rustic green hills
Of Avellino, Italy, to journey
So far beyond that small universe until
Crossing geographic borders that surely
Could not contain his imagination, and still
Laid a foundation for family, strong and sturdy
He taught me how to wonder; now I know its worth
I'm created from the four corners of my birth

She valued hard work and determination
The keys made for opening an auspicious 
Future, sown by an early education
And I still can taste the Sicilian dishes
Prepared in her kitchen, presenting occasion
For listening to guidance and best wishes
She told me to always strive; now I know its worth
I'm created from the four corners of my birth

She looked through radiant portals of prayer
To help direct her in daily interactions
Finding reasons to live, laugh, love, and to bear
Witness to others with ceaseless compassion
And charity that could not even compare
To her trust in God and saintly satisfaction
She taught me how to have faith; now I know its worth
I'm created from the four corners of my birth

He required no handicap to play his course
In all his endeavors, he remained steadfast
Able to succeed and become a driving force
A man who would not be defined by the past
Using inspiration from the heavenly Source
To produce gladness in his heart, unabashed
He showed me how to endure; now I know its worth
I'm created from the four corners of my birth

JMC
5/21/14
(c) 2014

Forever Loved

Forever Loved

This night she lies here, drawing in gentle breaths
And quietly dreams of another wondrous day gone by
This night, safely tucked against her mother's breast
She abides in the natural abundance of love's supply
Our little daughter, warmly wrapped in your lullaby
Shielded from any shadow that would have her suffer
She knows that you will be there to attend her cry
Between you is a sacred bond, found betwixt no other
You are forever loved, for you are forever her mother

JMC
5/11/14
(c) 2014

The Dance Of Life & Death

Time can be such an elusive creature. Just when you think that you finally have a grasp of it, you lose your control as it wriggles free and speeds away from you. It has been over five months now since I've even made an honest attempt at writing and composing my thoughts… something that I used to do so freely and frequently. Life has cemented me in place. I indeed seemed to have lost my grasp of time, but what I gained in return was even greater, time to grow with my family… with my beautiful five month old daughter. The perspective that my time and creativity was lost or wasted is only one side of the story. The truth is that my energy and my focus was elsewhere, it was on something even greater than my love of writing. During these past five months (and beyond) some of the most wonderful, awe inspiring, and emotional events have occurred in my life, good and positive as well as sad and heartbreaking. For certain, my silence was not for a lack of something to write about. In fact, I felt overwhelmed and unable to properly pay tribute to what I was experiencing. Perhaps these moments were too potent and expansive for me to capture at the time, but now looking back I can see a pattern. So, now I break the silence to tell the tale of these voiceless months, the tale of life and death.

Even before I became a father I felt as if I had tuned in to some mystical frequency only afforded to those who truly can grasp the significance of life and the loss of life, a preparation for parenthood. I think that as human beings we have the ability to ponder life, which is remarkable in itself, but for the most part we tune out in order to have a sense of normalcy. So rather than having some uncanny realization, I believe that my sense of experiencing life was heightened. The truth is that the speed of life (and my practice of recording it in writing) had changed even before my baby was born, and occurred during the nine months waiting for her. The feeling of excitement and the sense of urgency was ubiquitous. I worked twice as hard, thought twice as often, and ate twice as much waiting for this due date on the calendar looming ahead in the distance. It was during this time that I first keenly observed the balance of life and death in action. 

Months into our pregnancy (I was guarding the belly, she was pregnant), my wife was able to bring home her mother from Ghana. It was a joyous occasion, this reunion between mother and daughter after many years living apart. It was during this same month, the day when students at the high school where I teach were to go on their Thanksgiving break, when one of the students tragically drowned in the school pool during a gym class. He was a recent immigrant from Ghana, which had a strange antithetical parallel to the new beginning that we would enjoy in our own family. As one mother mourned her son, a daughter celebrated her mother. This congruency between life and death was only just beginning.

I remember that it was about one month later when my wife was about 17 weeks through her pregnancy, and the terrible news of the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting in Newtown, Connecticut broke. I was thinking of the parents of the young children who had sent them off to another regular day of school just before the holidays, and who had no idea that they would never see their children alive again. It struck a chord deep within my soul as I was anticipating and joyfully expecting my own child in the months to come. It also struck me that this tragic event unfolded only a week before most of Christendom celebrated the birth of Jesus Christ, filled with the symbolism of innocence and unconditional love. The irony was disturbing. I could only think about the loss of life that a mother or father had nurtured and protected, even before that life came into the world, and then to have it whisked away without any warning. My wife and I didn't know the sex of our baby growing in the womb, but we knew that we were parents, and we knew the human worth and the love that we had for our baby even though we could not see her. 

The following month, a former student of mine who had graduated from high school the year before had sadly died from complications after becoming ill. It happened suddenly and unexpectedly. I had seen this student almost every day during her time at the high school. She was my pupil, my teacher’s assistant, a member of my after-school club, she was a young friend. I had proudly watched her graduate the previous summer, and I was able to congratulate her happy family. My wife and I were greeted by her in surprise while shopping in a store only a few weeks before she had shockingly passed on. I can remember how she was so excited to see our baby growing in my wife’s belly. The next time I would see her was when she was lying in a casket at her funeral. It was one of the most heartbreaking things I had ever bore witness to, the death of someone I cared about who had their whole future in front of them. Someone that I had just seen and spoken to could smile and speak no more. The same family members that I had hugged with congratulations less than a year before, I now hugged with condolences. It was difficult to accept. Yet two weeks later one of my good friends had welcomed his baby son into the world. And all throughout this time of waiting and anticipating our own baby child, I clearly saw the dance between life and death, the interplay between its miraculous and joyous beginnings and the tragedy and the suffering of death.

Without a doubt, the greatest moment of my life so far, and the most definitive, was bearing witness to the birth of my baby daughter. Nine long months of waiting… not knowing whether we were having a boy or a girl, we were ready to greet our child into the world. After her safe and smooth delivery, I had the honor of introducing our daughter to her mother and calling her by the name we had chosen for her. The emotions running through me and the significance of the moment could not be captured in words as I cut the cord and held my daughter close to me for the first time. Unconditional love! Anticipating fatherhood had changed my life in many ways, but of course actually becoming a father changed my life in an unfathomable way. I instantly became conscious of the fact that I was now a family man and that my wife and my daughter were the most important people in my life and I would do anything to protect them. My eyes were open to an awareness I had not known until then.

Our daughter was only two months old when my wife and I took her on a 2,000 mile road trip to visit my grandmother, and meet her only great-grandmother for the first time. The summer pilgrimage was a beautiful one. Precious moments were spent together as we traveled and enjoyed our family vacation, but the greatest was when my Grandma was able to hold her great-granddaughter and watch her as she learned how to smile. Four generations were united together, beholding one another in love and wonder. It was a true testament to life. Life that seemed energized with the promise of tomorrow. After spending a couple of weeks with my grandmother and the rest of our family, we made our way back home. My grandmother stood by the door and waved goodbye to us, the same way she had always done since we were children. I left with the confidence that we would see her again the following summer. Life had a response to my presumption. Three weeks later, my grandmother passed. She had been healthy, happy, and buoyant when we saw her. She died in her own home after having a stroke. Though it was sudden and sad, my Grandma had made peace with her mortality. She had outlived her husband, she had seen my brothers and I get married, and she met her first great-grandchild. She had a spirit of love and genuine acceptance of life and the promise of heaven. She was ready to go, she wanted to go, I can only imagine that she felt fulfilled. I traveled back to say goodbye to the last grandparent I had left, and watch my Dad say goodbye to his mother. Once again, I watched the familiar dance between life and death.

As I write, outside my window I can see brown leaves crackling in the chilly wind, falling to the ground… in character of a typical autumn. Just as nature has its seasons, so too does the cycle of life. During this past year I’ve silently watched the dance between life and death unfold in several acts, a performance that was woven through awful tragedy and heartbreak, wondrous joy, and finally acceptance. It opened with conception and with hearing the first beat of my daughter’s heart during the last autumn. It concluded with our family saying goodbye during the euthanasia of our beloved family dog just a couple of weeks ago and hearing his heart beat for the last time. This dance is incomprehensible, it is natural… it is mystic.  It is something witnessed but not truly captured. In the end, I can say that I have seen it, I have studied it, and yet I am none the wiser. However, I do know the steps to the eternal dance, and now I am free to fall back into it, accept it, and find my muse. Life goes on, and I must write on.

JAHsh

Due Season

To say that my life has been eventful this past year is an understatement. So many things have been happening that it has been hard for me to take the time to just sit and meditate, let alone take account of it all. It seems like it was summer only a short while ago and I was bound for Ghana, Africa to see my wife's side of the family. Of course, my experience there was overwhelmingly significant, and there are so many things for me to share and reflect on in regard to that journey. Soon come, that is another story to tell. After our summer it was back to work, teaching the youths, and the months and seasons went by more quickly than I could imagine. Where did all the time go? What happened to my exercise routine? What happened to all of my writings and reasonings… my poetry? I hope to bring them about a bit more regularly again, but all in due season, at least I break the silence with this message. Something special has prompted me to write today on the once in a lifetime date of December, 12, 2012. 12-12-12 is the last major numerical date using the Gregorian calendar for about another century, when three numbers align (as they did on 9-9-09, 10-10-10 and 11-11-11). It is a cool phenomenon, but that is not what makes this day so special for me and my family.

For a very long time, my wife had been working on trying to bring her mother to the United States from Ghana to join her and her father here in Connecticut. This would be the dream of a lifetime, because although they had been living apart for 30 years, her parents remained married and faithful to one another. Her father lived and worked in the U.S. sending money and provisions home to Africa, while her Mom stayed in Accra, Ghana raising their children and taking care of the household. For her parents, time together was few and far between, when her father was able to take some vacation time to travel to Ghana. When my wife and were planning for our wedding, we also filed all the necessary paperwork to initiate the long, long process of bringing my mother-in-law here as well. It was our hope that she would be able to attend our wedding day, but unfortunately there were a series of obstacles in the way that prevented that wish from happening. Dealing with the Department of U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services is a labyrinth of twists and turns that often leads you to complete frustration, I experienced it second-hand. Each time that my wife and father-in-law thought they had completed all the necessary steps, something else came up. After nearly a year of back-and-forth with the government, Mom’s application was processed and we had to wait for an interview date to be determined.

This past summer, my wife and I travelled to Ghana and were hoping that while we were there we would get the date for her Mom’s interview and arrangements could be made to bring her to America. However, once we were in Accra, a notice came stating that the interview date would be in September, once we would back home and working. The interview at the American embassy is an important part of making it through the gauntlet, and it can be a tricky situation when the officials are combing through every detail of the application and all the files that were required to accompany it. My wife was intent on physically being there with her mother since she was her sponsor who filed her immigration application. So, my wife had to travel back to Ghana in September and attend this meeting, with the hopes of bringing her Mom to the States this time. Thankfully, the embassy granted our Mom permission to come over. However, the visa would not be issued until a month later in October. This meant a third journey to Ghana before everything was done! My wife waited until the week before Thanksgiving in November and flew to Africa once more. Mom had her received her visa, bags were packed, and finally after all that time… after all the paperwork, expenses, and physically flying between two continents three times in as many months, she arrived.

This evening on 12-12-12, we celebrated my Mom-In-Law’s first birthday in America. We sat together as a family, eating fufu and light soup, laughing, sharing stories, and being thankful. My wife has not seen her parents living together properly under one roof for her entire lifetime. To see her Mom and Dad on the same side of the table, celebrating her Mom’s birthday, is nothing short of a miracle for us. It has been a few weeks since Mom came to the States and she is happy and well, and getting acquainted with American life (she never left West Africa before). Now she is enjoying time with her husband, her daughter, and her son-in-law. Lives worlds apart were finally united together after so much time.

This amazing story is a story of endurance. What I managed to put forth here, late on a Wednesday night and rusty from a lack of writing, does not do it justice. It is so incredible that we as a family have to pause in order to appreciate that it is reality. The amount of faith, energy, and patience that it took to trod this road and reach this point is beyond measure. However, the lesson here is that everything comes in its due season, and everything will align itself just the way it should be, when it should be, like 12-12-12. With persistence and faith, we can endure the time until we reap the harvest. Patience removes mountains. Something that seemed impossible and insurmountable is now behind us on this journey called life. We all have our own obstacles, whether it is U.S. Immigration or finances or physical distance. An African proverb says, “While there is a mountain in your path, do not sit down at its foot and cry. Get up and climb it.” Our family has overcome a mountain, and we will still have more mountains to climb in this life… but we can do it with a little bit of patience and faith, and so can you! Life is beautiful, and when you think you have it figured it out, it will surprise you once again. Happy Birthday Mom! Let JAH be praised! 

JAHsh

Adjusting To Jubilation

It is important to know that life is a very wonderful gift, and that we should be mindful of this as we take this journey of ours. While getting carried through the whirlwind of our responsibilities, busy schedules, and daily routines, we need to acknowledge that these stresses are only small and often insignificant parts of who we are and what we do. There are times when it is absolutely necessary to pull out of our micromanaging and take a moment to be aware and give thanks. This year has been incredibly hectic for me, and since it is my birthday today, I celebrate it with an opportunity for reflection on what I have and how I am managing it.

I begin with mentioning that married life is something that I have been really busy adjusting to. It is very different from the lifestyle I once had as a bachelor. I follow that statement with mentioning that nothing could be more satisfying and wonderful than married life. Beginning and ending each new day with the love of my life, my best friend, my Empress, is a truly magnificent blessing alone. I can remember days of solitude, days of wondering whether or not there was that special woman for me... and then here I am spending each day and night with her! We share a home together, this little place of our own that we can take refuge in after long days of work. We have our arms to comfort one another. We have our shared experiences. To an outsider, it may seem boring or ridiculously ordinary. However, it is this constant and steadfast rhythm which is truly amazing. This stability is built on love, trust, and satisfaction. These qualities seem typical because we all desire them and strive for them in one way or another, but they are very extraordinary. So much so, that it seems just... ordinary. I liken it to the earth, spinning each day on its axis... turning day into night, and orbiting around the sun, bringing season after season. We expect these things, we are familiar with these things, but this act literally keeps the world turning. Together with my wife, “moon and sun” as I had written in a poem for our wedding, this daily turn with my Significant Other is significant indeed.

However, with married life comes a newfound responsibility. Being there for each other emotionally, spiritually, financially and physically can be exhausting. A single person meets their own needs (which is often a feat in itself), and then extends themselves to others when necessary. A married person must consider their partner, must make sacrifices, and must meet each other’s needs. Add to this being a homeowner, juggling mortgage payments, loans and bills, for the sake of securing your family. It is a very different way of life, but certainly it is a good type of “different”. Adjusting to that tempo is something that I am still learning. Even though I know that many challenges await us in our long years ahead (JAH willing), we have the commitment and love to succeed.

Adding to the daily rigors of (newly) married life is my life as a teacher. Those of us who are teachers know that the lifestyle of an educator can be very exhausting and very taxing. It has been a difficult year for me professionally for a variety of reasons, one of which includes working multiple jobs. Stability is just as important to a career as it is to personal or married life... we long for having a sense of achievement and a sense of worth, and when we feel stressed, overwhelmed, or unappreciated it can really affect our entire life and our outlook on life. Being in this situation has taught me a few things this year, at least an awareness of how important or unimportant something actually is. Whereas a sense of stability is vital and hopefully expected in married life, there is less of a guarantee for this at work. Changes can come quickly, both positive and negative. Unfortunately there has been a lot of negativity to cope with this year as a teacher, whether on a local level, state and national level, or even cultural level. Add to this the fact that socializing with so many people, and in my case indifferent teenagers, comes with a lot of extra pressures. Yet, although it is a facet of my life, it is NOT my life... not your life, not our life. Life is much more than that, and at times it is very necessary for us to skim it off the surface and reconstitute ourselves. Time for realignment (or vacation, whichever comes first).

As a married couple, having time for our families and our friends is another new adjustment. It is not always easy to keep this component at the forefront of our lives, but I believe it is necessary. Family is very important to me and, along with my wife, I am very blessed to have my relationships with my parents and brothers, my in-laws, and other relatives to all prosper. This is rare for so many people nowadays, so I acknowledge this as a true blessing. The simple fact that my wife and I can address each other’s parents as “Mom” and “Dad” and say it with love and feeling is such an awesome thing in itself. Friendship can be trickier to maintain because it requires communication and understanding to stay strong... but we all need it, and we should all value it. So I say to all my friends and family alike... I love you! As one of my friends has always said to me, “two mountains don’t always meet”.  So distance is no matter when hearts and minds are in tune. I am confident that I will get better at making time for all the people I love and care for, give thanks for the patience.

Now, after making time for my wife, my family and friends, I am working on reestablishing time for myself: Time to educate myself on the things that inspire me, time to strengthen my convictions, time set aside to write (which has been sparse this year for aforementioned reasons), time to read, time to keep physically fit, time to sing, time to celebrate. Time for doing the things that make me who I am... a husband, a teacher, a Rastaman, a friend, a world citizen. Yes these things are very important and necessary.

Finally I end this by saying I give thanks to God, whom I call JAH, Jehovah, Rastafari. Life is great and beautiful, but I can never forget the blessings that I have. For me it is important to acknowledge the Creator’s hand in this life of mine... because it is very real in my sight. When life is good, it is human for us to forget about God. I cannot. After expressing all the new things I am learning to adjust to, one can see how these adjustments are really just growing into the blessings that have been forwarded unto I&I. I have my Empress, I have my family, and friends. I have my health and strength. I have a meaningful vocation. I have a voice. Today, on my birthday, I renew my friendship with JAH and give thanks for life!

Yes, give thanks for another year and for all my blessings. I hope to keep this fire burning... so, all the Massive, check for the reasonings, poems, and lyrics in a Rastaman stylee! I am still here and there are still so many things to say.

More Love,
JAHsh

Still Waters Run Deep

For months I’ve been wanting to sit down and write something intriguing. The year 2011 was full of significant events, both personal and global, so it’s not as if there was a shortage of things to write about. However, on this New Year’s Eve I am left with an unimpressive collection of writings to show for the year. At times I would start something, but the most that would come of it were some half-scribbled notes strewn about somewhere. On other occasions I had some worthy thoughts to share, but I had neither the energy nor time to commit any of them to writing. It’s been tough not being able to express myself as much and when compared to last year when I wrote prolifically, 2011 might seem like a silent river rolling through time. Yet as the old proverb goes, “still waters run deep”. For those on the “river banks” looking in, the true greatness and bounty of 2011 was what actually lay beneath the surface of my life.

2011 was the biggest year of my life. It was the year I purchased my first home. It was the year I ran my first race. It was the year I got engaged to my beautiful Empress. Finally, and most significantly, it was the year that she and I married and became one before the Almighty. All of these huge blessings came so naturally, but also so unexpectedly. Looking back several years ago, I would have had no premonitions at all. Even in 2010, where there were hints of things to come, I still wouldn’t have been able to fully grasp it all. Normally, I have at least some words to express myself on landmark events, especially when it comes to my own life. Yet, all I could do was just soak it all in, and absorb the love and the good fortune that I was experiencing every single day. It has been a year of giving thanks for all that I have.

How can one describe the most momentous day of his life? How do you capture the emotions, the nuances, and every single note of the symphony of blessings that played? You can’t. No photographs, videos, or written accounts can capture the absolute brilliance of that day in early October. Our wedding was amazing. We worked so hard to make it what we had hoped it to be, a joyous start to our lives together. We were the creators of our union... fusing our love for each other, our spirituality and love for JAH, our roots and culture, our families and our friends all together into a celebration that was more than we could have imagined. Moreover, we were blessed in so many ways that were completely out of our control, including having the most spectacular weather. It wasn’t a fairy-tale wedding with fanfare and ridiculous expenses like 2011’s British Royal Wedding. It wasn’t a typical wedding like you see in magazines or television shows. Rather, it was our own reality, our values, our design, our vows. It was the celebration of a lifetime for the union of lifetime. Even if things had not gone as we planned, the outcome would have still been the same, and nothing would ever or could ever keep my Empress and I apart. No power on earth could ever keep us from being bound together in love and unity. Of course... that was all the easy part. It was all in the hands of the Most High!

A lesson that I quickly learned is that becoming a married man means having additional responsibilities and an abundant amount of patience. In fact, a few days earlier I was joking with friends that you truly aren’t a man until you become a married man (and yes, I’ve been reminded that having children will redefine living once again). It’s not just about living for yourself anymore and doing anything that you want as long as you have the means and time to do it. Being married makes things completely different. I now think as a couple and I play the game of life a little more tactfully. For me, 2011 has meant having financial obligations that I never had to cope with before, making decisions and compromising on issues that I would not have had to consider. Being married has even changed my vernacular, it’s not “I” or “me” anymore, it is “us”, “we”, yes, it is I&I! Despite it all, it has not been all that difficult (although I’m sure that I can reflect on this more accurately next year). More than anything, it has been time consuming.

So while I have been adjusting to the responsibilities that come with being a married man, the world has kept turning. Politically, there have been huge changes in the world. It was the year of the “Arab Spring” with revolutions and uprisings in Egypt, Libya, Syria, Tunisia, Yemen and other countries in the Middle East and North Africa. Osama Bin Laden was killed, so was Muammar Qaddafi. Kim Jong Il died. South Sudan became the world’s newest country. All types of natural disasters reminded us that we humans are just one small part of the world: earthquakes, tsunamis, floods, fires, hurricanes, and epic snow storms. Also, we cannot forget about the terrible ongoing famine in Somalia (it seems that it only survived news headlines for a few days). Back in America we have had protests and demonstrations of our own with the Occupy Movement in response to the economy and unemployment. Politicians and candidates claim to have solutions to the nation’s problems but they continue to blunder and argue like fools. 2011 was a year of shifting tides, but the seas are still stormy and there will be much to reflect on in 2012.

Still waters run deep, and I’ve been too still this past year to get too deep into any other thoughts, but I do end this year with the prospect of making positive changes in the year to come. I am not one to make New Year’s resolutions, but I do hope to settle into my new lifestyle a little more and bring balance. I hope to write more and reflect more. I hope to be more patient and more organized. I hope to spend more time with JAH, giving thanks and praises. I hope to grow more with my wife and my entire family in a positive way. I hope to make it to Africa. Whatever comes in 2012, I know that life is as good as we make it... so I say to make the most of it, and God will handle the rest. 2012 has a negative stigma to it because of Mayan calendars and Nostradamus prophecies, but you can’t live in fear and negativity. Better must come. Live up, live good, and be the change you want to see in the world.

One Love & Happy New Year,
JAHsh

Centurion

Centurion

One hundred years ago, he was
Born in a tiny village amongst
The chestnut trees and ancient
Churches in green mountains
And his legacy fountains through
My veins because he remains
Here, alive and well in my heart
And though he now rests up on
Another green hill, I know he will
Always watch over us, just like
San Michele high above Volturara
A sentry through our centuries

JMC
5/21/11
(c) 2011

Livicated to my Grandpa, Edmond Gioielli, who would have been 100 years old today, May 21, 2011.

When We Were Soldiers

When We Were Soldiers

Maybe it was the innate inclination
Seemingly present in all young boys
Or perhaps it was the moment that
While playing games in the basement
We laid our eyes upon our Grandpa's
Olive drab, wool army service cap
Above coats up on a closet shelf
The leather visor and brass insignia
Pristine and clean, set aside from
Another era that we had never seen

My brothers and I spent many hours
Over at our grandparents' house
But the army hat was a new discovery
It beckoned us from their basement
Giving us an itch as if this piece
Of uniform was some transformative
Relic that would change us all from
Boys into the men seen in WWII movies
So finally, with his permission we
Took turns wearing Grandpa's old hat

We quickly enlisted into fascination
There was more beyond that closet door
Next, Grandpa allowed us to use his
Heavy steel helmet along with the
Army belt and its aluminum canteen
Our Dad too lent us some of the things
From his days as a Marine in Vietnam
We put on khaki and green garrison caps
With his knapsack and issued tee-shirts

This was much more than those plastic
Green men we'd set on the floor and
Shoot elastic bands at while peeking
Above paper tents and plastic jeeps
Now we ourselves seemed down there
Dressed up in our own father's gear
Frozen in some pose while waiting
In those uniforms, like a combatant
Ready to cross over the enemy's lines
The soldier's life vivid in our minds

We were an absurd mishmash of troops
As we three would dig in our garage
To dress in camouflage and sneakers
Along with bright yellow and blue
Fisher-Price binoculars dangling
From our necks like strange dog-tags
One of us would awkwardly wear the
Steel helmet, bobbling on their head
Another would just wear its inner liner
And we had many hats to choose from

Naturally, being the eldest found me
Usually in command of the other boys
We would set out with our toys and
Whoever was the lucky one would use
Our uncle's old BB gun, shooting air
At whoever would dare attack our hidden
Fortress in the gully behind our home
We'd roam the woods, drawing crude maps
Planning ambushes on imaginary enemies
And occasionally on our own neighbors

During the summer months we'd spend
Hours in the hot sun, running through
Underbrush and thorns, hiding in trees
Drinking swigs of the tinny tasting
Water from our Grandpa's old canteen
Until we had to come in and get clean
So Mom would allow us to eat our dinner
We did this until we grew older and the
Movies and video games soon replaced
The times we chased each other outside

I will always remember those days
When we were soldiers, playing games
Fighting imaginary backyard battles
Because our Dad and our Grandpa had
Already fought the real ones for us
Decades before, in wars far from home
And though we played in their uniforms
We never once stepped into their boots
Because they were generals we'd salute
In those days when we were soldiers

JMC
11/11/10
(c) 2010

Livicated to my Dad and my Grandpa, both veterans:
Robert L. Curzan, USMC, Vietnam War
Edmond Gioielli, US Army, World War II

My Vineyard

My Vineyard

Every fig to its own fig tree
Every fruit to its own vine
I know that I shall always
Have a place that is mine
From two stems that were
Grafted together by twine
Tended by His loving hands
Two became one, combined
Unto them were three branches
Following the Master’s design
Grown in different directions
Yet all raised by the sunshine
I was ripened in my due season
Aged by the passage of time
Picked in the days of harvest
When I had been redefined
Blessed over by the Son and
Changed like water into wine
Repented and then fermented
So that I could reach my prime
Spreading joy in JAH garden
Helping young shoots to climb
To achieve a sense of purpose
Seeds fertilized by the divine
Someday I too shall blossom
Out from a love intertwined
When I will bear forth fruit
A new variety of my own kind
Planted safely among my roots
Where they shall always find
A home back in my vineyard
In the soil of my bloodline

JMC
5/17/10
(c) 2010

Poetic Presence

Yesterday evening, April 15th, I had the pleasure to participate in a poetry reading with some very talented friends... both poets and musicians. The event was called “Spontaneous Poetry and Music”, and it was arranged by a good friend, and accomplished poet, to take place at the school where he teaches. He had excitedly told me about it for days, and in hindsight his enthusiasm would certainly be the harbinger for things to come. I had been looking forward to the occasion for weeks and I knew that it would be a perfect opportunity for me to share my words and expressions with a group of people, but I had no idea just how wonderful it would be.

I must say that the vibes were on the highest level from the very beginning. There is nothing like a whole lot of love and welcoming to set things straight. Any nervousness that I may have felt quickly disappeared as I was in the presence of great people who were ready to share their hearts and minds, just like myself. After greeting my fellow artists, old friends and new friends alike, I took my place on a stool, one of four arranged in a slight semi-circle. This was where I and the other poets sat. In the middle of the circle, splitting us into pairs, were the musicians... percussion, drums, and guitar. Behind us were beautiful paintings, one of Bob Marley, and the draped red, gold, and green colors of the Ethiopian banner shone against the background of black curtains. Everything was set-up to perfection on an intimate stage, lights gently dimmed, chairs of the crowd before us, video cameras ready to tape, reggae music playing as guests took their seats. I could see some of my friends in the audience, and I was in the company of my colleagues making their own final arrangements.

Then in what almost seemed as a mirage, I saw my parents walk in. It was an absolute surprise because I did not expect them to make it. I had invited them to the event and last weekend I showed them the flyer advertising the evening, but in the back of my mind I considered it as just a formality and an update as to what I was doing. My Mom had called me a few hours before to wish me luck and mentioned that they probably would not be able to come because it was a busy time. So, needless to say, when I did see my Mom and Dad standing there, I had no words... none of the poems that I selected to bring with me and read could convey how I felt in their presence. My parents had never seen me in my element, with my music or poetry, at least not since my teenage years with school events and such. I didn’t know what they would think of my works, I didn’t know what to expect... but I was happy that they had come. After making introductions, I sat back on my stool flipping through some of my poems, thinking on which ones to read, how to deliver them, and being aware of my parents sitting in the crowd.

What followed was truly magical. We didn’t know exactly how things would proceed... because as billed, it was spontaneous. I timidly volunteered to begin with a poem of my own, one that I had decided to make my first reading. But our beloved host and fellow poet had forgotten to allow the honored percussionist to open the evening. And so, the elder of 70-odd years, with massive dreadlocks tied back, his beard long and dreaded as well, greeted us all and gave thanks and praises to the Creator while venerating our ancestors and elders, those present and in spirit. It was the perfect beginning, the vibes were in order, and I felt at ease. After our opening ritual, I looked down at my poems resting before me on a music stand. Before the beautiful blessing had begun I was about to read my chosen poem, the one honoring my ancestors. I could barely believe it, but I knew it was more than mere coincidence... it was purposeful. It was a natural mystic, ordaining me to continue properly. So I read. This first one was for my family... for my Mom and Dad, for my grandparents, for all those who came before me, it was my tribute to them, my thanks to them. I could see my parents listening intently, smiles on their faces as I shaped my words, and then came the applause of the crowd at the end. I was now in another place. The rest of the evening was a fantastic collage of art... the other poets and I traded back and forth, different voices, different rhythms, woven together with beautiful tunes from the guitar and the different drums, the interactions with the audience, the presence and the smiles of my parents. Time didn’t seem to matter at all, but when we did conclude our evening it felt like we still could have continued for hours more, both performers and audience alike.

After the show, guests came up to me, expressing their admiration and appreciation, all of which was wonderful. Then, up came my parents... smiling, embracing me, and congratulating me. All I could think about was how incredible I felt, how thankful I was for my Mom and Dad being able to see me do what I love, how grateful I was that they really did appreciate it, and how I was so glad that I had invited them to come see me in the first place. I couldn’t remember a time I was happier, not any time recently. Something amazing happened, all the fears or discomforts that I had when it came to my parents accepting me, real or imagined, seemed to wash away. All the barriers broke down when I saw them before me, proud of me, happy for me, impressed by me... understanding of me. Me: the poet, me: the dreadlock, me: the Rasta, me: the son, me: the friend, me: the individual. I could not stop glowing... and I am still glowing as I write this.

I mark this occasion as a milestone in my life, a time that I will never forget, and a moment that meant so much to me. There is nothing compared to the love, support and approval of those that mean the most to you, such as my parents. I felt like a proud child, reverberating a moment in time... from a performance in a school play, a display of artwork, an excited hug on the reception of good news. Everything channeled and spun together to the present, in their presence. I can imagine myself feeling the same way no matter the time, no matter my age or their age. I give thanks and praise to JAH, the Almighty, for the blessing and for my accomplishment. I give thanks to my parents, and all of my family for their love. I give thanks for my friends for their support and love. For everyone’s presence that night, I do give thanks. It was a poem in itself, with every word, every line, in its proper place. A Poetic presence...

More Love & More Life,
JAHsh