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A Harvey Refugee Reports:

When she with cats, papers, a change of clothes
And her old college bag to hold them all
Was one refugee among others in a dump truck
A Houston Airport Authority dump truck

Dieseling through rain and water and fear
With muck and mud sloshing across their feet
A woman next to her then laughed and said,
“Now we’re the people they take pictures of”

But there was no Capa to frame the scenes
Only oh-my-Godders with MePhone screens
As the old saying goes, this isn't half the story. A young person of my acquaintance was caught in the flooding in Houston two years ago because she trusted her local government and the dam (and ****') authority when they told the people not to evacuate because they would only clog the roads.
 Sep 2019 tumelo mogomotsi
everyday, my manger would ask me "is it sunny today?" i'd usually say "i guess so, it's partly cloudy." half dark, half light. he was referring to what was going on in my mind. some days, i'd tell him "it's cloudy today."

ever since she died, it has always be cloudy. ongoing clouds blooming — rising into a storm. storms are temporary, but this one is stuck in my head like a favorite song on repeat. i forgot what it is like to see the sun.

i'm trying my best to survive the rain.
I was busy chasing someone else
when I knew the love dissipated, disappeared.

And then a little blue bird came flying from a big blue sky, bringing a message not on its leg, but in its chirp.

There was another who knew me,
and then he watched me,
and then, well,
I suppose he liked me.
 Feb 2019 tumelo mogomotsi
I really do


The time you take out of your day just to

Just to

Spend time

With me

Of all people

You spent that time with me.

I hope

You don't regret it

I hope

I sincerely

From the bottom of my heart


That you do realise

That I

Care about you

Far more than I am able to


Through these

Flimsy words

That are nothing more

Than sounds

Sounds that

Pass through cold lips

Through the days

That doesn't make

Much sense

Does it?


I treasure the time spent

With you

With her

With him

I treasure the time spent

Doing what I love





Heart beating


I do have times


I do not want to do any

Of these things

Where I

Rather be alone


Captive to

My mind


In my


But remember

I will always come back

Come back out

Get found


My way back home

And I will try to spend time

But know that

I am trying

To ground


And I

Really do

Love the time

We spend

Doing what

We love

Even though

I may not act like it.
It’s been years since you’ve left,
I feel that I’ve been able to move on
but the phantom pain in my chest
reminds me that you are truly gone.
I must admit I’ve missed you
even more than I can bear.
Like when I walk into your old room,
do I imagine your scent still in the air ?
I’ve finally boxed all your clothes,
I plan to drop them off today.
They are the last vestiges of you,
the physical remnants of your time here.
And it takes all I can do
to not feel so bereft and alone,
but the phantom pain in my chest
reminds me you’re truly gone.
I just want you to know...
what ever you are going through,
whether that's..
a new diagnoses.
anything at all.
you are never alone.
someone's loves you.
whether you believe that or not,
it is true.
you will see that soon.
stay strong.
you can get through it all.
I love you.
the house across the street
has been empty
for years
because the landlord can’t afford
to tear it down
or build a new one
and it won’t pass inspection

one lamp stays on
all day
all night
to deter the copper thieves
or any other broken soul
seeking shelter
from the streets

a child runs across the splintered floor
his feet black as tar
stinking of mildew and *****
a mother sinks into her soiled chair
but she tries

a trust-fund recipient rides his jet-ski
his oiled body
tanned and toned
a father, gleaming, takes a photo
and he flaunts

everyone has their own place in the world
in a trailer park
in a tent
in a split-level home
in a shelter
in a palace

but never on the pavement
beaten down
like a poorly-trained dog
blamed for the errors
of its master
Why should the Light return upon
Our cold and darkened land?  
When, into sleep, we drift and yawn,
So thoughtless of His hand...

We never think: "Someday it may
Forever cease to shine!"
We never thank – with thanks, befit –
For Morning Mercies' rise.

Why should the Light return upon
Our cold and darkened land?
But to awaken life at dawn
As He, in Goodness, planned...

We never, then, have an excuse
To fall into a dream
We never, then, can e’re accuse;
His Glory’s, daily, seen.

Lamentations 3:22-23: "The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness."
 Feb 2019 tumelo mogomotsi
Heros don't wear capes,
Or masks.
They wear dog tags.
And i smiled to myself,
Because you didn't need to wear dogtags
To be my hero.
You already were.
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