a determined effort
reaching into the deep's

via the surface
of things

rounding up the mystery
minute victories

each poem
a small gift

My mom asked,
Why no friends?
I said,
I just don’t like talking.

But deep down,
I know they think I’m weird.
They ignore me.
I don’t fit.

I used to feel broken.
Left out.
Unheard.

Now,
I love myself.
Even if they call it selfish.
Even if it’s hard.

I’ve found peace
In being alone—
Not lonely,
Just me.

There's an abyss where the souls meet
That keeps bliss out of reach
Why?
Do we even try?
I've manipulated you all the time
That there's the light
At the end of the tunnel
I'm delusional
In my mind, too
Why do I feel dilapidated all the time
Something has died inside

But there's hope
That I'll look at the flowers
The blue in deepest parts of the skies
And there's a change of heart that sustains life in all beings

It delivers me from my darkest times
It drives me out of the corners of the dying souls of my mind
Why?
Do we even try? For just a moment of peace that gives us power

some people seem to carry heaven
in the way they walk—
effortless, luminous,
as though their purpose
is to remind us of grace

i have not known such ease
my lessons came
through breaking bones of the spirit
through the heavy silence
of unsaid words
through desires that cut too deep

and still—
i do not curse the falling
i do not despise the storm

because what it left in me
wasn’t bitterness
but the stubborn clarity
that love,
even when it burns down,
remains the only treasure
worth guarding

Diakonia's goal is to change unfair political, economic, social and cultural structures that generate poverty, oppression and violence

Rice and tea
For a smiling flower...
But I want beauty to be, a sincere key
Caring in this heat, I see you wonder if I Molech's sour?

Rain and tear's
Easy worlds of a questions held, so quiet...
Caring and hope, in a box until wind fears
The space and renumeration, of what callous call's might

Remain and truth
So called future, with a room for when a think begin's
Shoulder's and heraldry, to love a banality's youth
Did a rage tell you, to stay away from imaginary wind?

Remember and treacle
Taken with a pristine cough, the tale has an awkward twist
She of silence is an angel of liberty, never fickle
Look hard, this lie is the only way to judge a reason, ******

Reign of terror
Women in the raving lunacy of a cold shoulder, with nothing to eat
But the stare of wonder, of me's in the rage of a waiting mirror
Where the wish granted, is still a fight with nothing but a heart to beat...