Admiration | pictured words

THEY

They come
from distant lands,
escaping war,
famine, natural disaster,
unlivable conditions, persecution,
economic instability, etc.

They arrive
carrying whatever they can.
Perhaps a photo or two.
A key to a house
that may no longer exist.
Only the clothes on their backs.

One very dear Syrian friend had to leave
suddenly. Flee.
Her family,
in the middle of a meal,
left pots and plates of food
years ago.

Ukrainian friends we now consider family
arrived with one school-type backpack
for their family of four.
Yes, you read that correctly.
Some aren’t even that lucky.

Dowla chose one item to bring:
A wooden pole, balanced on her shoulders,
with which to carry
her six children
when they tired of the 10-day walk from Sudan
to a refugee camp in South Sudan.

Aboubacar fled Mali on a donkey cart
with his wife and two children.
The one item he chose to bring?
His goat.
“The goat brings me hope, joy, and a sense
that things can change for the better.”

After dealing with several months of air raids,
Magboola and her three children finally left Sudan
the night soldiers came and opened fire.
The most important item she chose to carry:
a small cooking pot.
It could be easily carried,
and used to feed her children.

102-year-old Omar is blind.
His item of choice was his lati
(his walking stick).
“If I hadn’t had my lati,
I would have crawled to Bangladesh.”
The situation in the village he loved,
yet had to flee,
was dire.
The journey,
unimaginably hard.
A quote I relish from him is this:
“If you laugh, others will laugh with you.
And if you stop laughing, you will die.”

Elizabeth fled war in Angola.
52 years later, she still struggles
with the feeling of not having a real home.
The one item she still has with her
is her Bible.
“In this world, bad things happen,
but in the Bible you can find words which help you.”

The stories
are endless
unimaginable
heartbreaking
staggering
awe-inspiring.

The people
are strong
courageous
thankful
giving
hopeful,
in spite of it all.

It is my honor and great blessing
to look into the eyes of those
I am privileged to personally know.
To hear their stories.
See their smiling eyes.
Feel their arms around me.
Their kisses on my cheeks.
To taste their food.
Receive their time
and their love.

THEY
are life-enriching.

(Stories of those I don’t personally know are from UNHRC. The photo I chose is from Pexels.com.)

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May 4, 2019

SHE CALLS HERSELF AN ADDICT

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I suppose when cravings for poison
introduced in past moments of pain
threaten to pull you to ocean’s floor
and you remember the relief of
oxygen to your lungs,
you might find it irresistible, this temptation to
breathe –

even if it is one breath.
Even if it threatens
to fill your lungs with death.

But she –
she would rather not breathe

than return to the venom her body craves.
She would rather hold her breath,
while waiting for her Redeemer
to meet her in the depths.
To lift her face.
To breathe life to her very soul.

She calls herself an addict.

I call her a child of the God who Saves.
I call her brave.
I call her inspiring.

I call her friend.

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January 7, 2017

SONNET FOR MY DAD

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My father earned a living teaching youth.
He shared with them the music of his core.
He showed them how to honor life and truth,
And gave his time to all who graced his door.

My father is a man to emulate –
A man who holds to ethical ideals.
And even now, though years have slowed his gait,
They haven’t marred the crux of what he feels.

My father’s love is deep; allegiance strong.
His charity continues to abound.
He taught me well to judge what’s right and wrong,
To gather stars, while keeping feet aground.

And so it is I pen this gift through tears –
I thank my God for granting us these years.

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June 20, 2015

LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON

I was drawn to their son.

The kind blue eyes
That softened, and crinkled in the corners
When they dared make contact with mine.
The broad shoulders,
That beckoned me to lay my head
Against the chest they framed.
The unassuming demeanor
That spoke volumes to me
Of how he was raised.

But my heart had been wounded.
My trust had been broken.
My spirit was guarded.
Until I met them.

And I saw

The kind blue eyes
That softened, and crinkled in the corners
When they made contact with hers.
The kiss placed tenderly on her head.
The hand that gently stroked her cheek.
The whispered prayer that honored her.
The heart that took in
Every word she spoke,
Every breath she drew.

And I knew

Their son,
Who was stealing my heart,
Could be trusted.

Happy Father’s Day to my father-in-law and my husband, You are both dearly loved.

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pictured words

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September 14, 2025