Quote By: Sofia Rojas
The wrong person will find you at peace then later leave you in pieces
The right person will find you when broken and help you find peace again
Both are necessary in the development and learning of your existence.


So many years of trying to find the right partner
all I got was pain and heartache, where did I go wrong ?  
Guess I spend too much time trying to protect my armor  
lost in my loneliness I always felt like I didn't belong;

Then I learned to self soothe and sing my own lullabies
stitched my hopes to trust and prayed him in, Wow ! Who knew !
That the right one would come along and hear my cries  
yes he came to my rescue, right on cue !

Sometimes we need to find many Mister Wrongs
before we can finally find the Mister Right  
It doesn't mean we failed,
it just means your prayer never got mailed....

They called her triple scoop at school cuz she was kind of plump
she was made of ice cream, so all day long she ran and ran and ran  
Sliding in and out of freezers  just to gather herself up in a clump
They called her "Dairy Queen Of Junior High" she never got a tan

Flavored in three Neapolitan colors she came, now that is insane !
She dolloped to wallop, d turning away from the sun, run Queenie run
Oh how sweet but how melty she dripped each time it began to rain
The only thought through her head was, " I might as well be a nun !"

Then one day she met Mr. Freezer, who lived in an Igloo by the Artic
come live with me & we will make snowballs all day and play ...
It was best to live in the cold, for that was her honest prognostic !
together they thrived and felt good in that place called, " Snowsway"

In the early morning fuzz, a smoky inhale of life
the lamppost is lit and the trees are just waking up
Five Forty Two Am: the eyes of the sky are grayly
I hold my stave high as I begin my very first poem  

Bushes and creeks containing tiny quakes of light
piercing through a silent heaven, I feel alright
Sleeping in the room next door he is unaware
of the awakened altered state that claims me

Down the path of memories I go alone and safe
standing behind a closed window, vouchsafe !
Smoke blankets the city on this Friday morning
I can't touch the fire, I am only its town crier

as I write about the residue of the wildfires,  
                I can see the peeling back of its slight
                                 and know instinctively,
                                          It is daylight....

Silence listens to the voices of the people
while on earth, a wisp of wind digresses  
In heaven God listens to each silent call  
at the footfalls of Silence...

Silence breathes quietly at the crack of dawn  
respiring softly at the ledge of twilight sunset  
Silence sits at the nucleus of our souls and lies
at the footfalls of Silence...

Silence is at the ear of the heart it does not speak
gently it leads us with a cupped hand to peace
It knows how to collect waterfalls and breezes
at the footfalls of Silence...

Silence is my linguistic heaven, my favorite speech
it is my mantra, my Yoga Master, my go to place
When things overwhelm I go to Silence and live,      
at the footfalls of Silence....

"In memory of Eliza and Emily"  
Twelve Years a Slave, Eliza Berry's life marked by cruelty, a tragedy of slavery.


She rose to lower heights as she plucked the cotton with  
                               her bare hands
Stooped over she pulled the cotton from the bolls, fine cotton
                               that it was !  
Twelve years of slavehood, her daughter taken for her beauty
                                  was separated from her youth...
Haggard, hollow-eyed and filled with sorrow she worked soberly
                                     for she would not be sold, she was not for sale !
Eliza wept tears of grief but, there was nothing she could do,
                                       her daughter had been taken away from her.
Come back—don’t leave me—come back, mama, was her last cry
  until distance intervened and then all was finally wholly lost.

Foot Note: Eliza never saw or heard of Emily. In the cotton field, always and everywhere she was talking to her.  Only when absorbed in that illusion or asleep, did she ever have a moment’s comfort, afterwards.

Trembling leaves stand out,
Yellow amongst the green-

First to expire in heat,
They tremble and fall
Decondensed,
Brittle dry harbingers

Of an early Autumn,
Chill borne on North
Sea breeze

This sunny Summer morn

Come to me like a wild horse unbridled longing for the river
like a morning prayer on the heart wanting nothing more
Come to me with pining like a widow waiting for her love
like a soldier in the trenches, begging for cease fire ...

Come to me like a dove gliding over peaceful waters
like the otter and the kelp in a symbiotic drift
Come to me like stars of night shining with accord
like the morning sun at dawn, rising still on you

Come to me like a morning cup of coffee freshly brewed
like a sleeping soul awakened by dreams of yesterday
Come to me like the diner bell exhaling all your waits
like a soft caress on the skin filled with enchanting sin  

                            come to me lover with your loving touch,
                             for I love you, so much !