So I am ready to embark on that journey again, to date, to love and share the intimate pieces of me l again.

It takes time to heal after divorce.

Many people in my life assumed that just because I am a man, I should have just jumped up and ran out the door and started the next relationship; yet that was not me.  

I never dreamed that I would marry and then become divorced, that I would have to let go of the person I invested everything in and vice versa.  So when the process began, I was devastated.  

Not only was I scared for myself, I was scared for my children.  How do I protect them from them pain of this as well. I struggled other watching the woman I Love be devastated as well, I felt helpless and defeated. 

Through Faith, Growth, and time I overcame the things that could have crippled me; my children. We are stronger for pushing through the storm, finding that what was waiting after it passed was worth it.   

Family is important, being a husband is what I want to be, a father, a Loving man of God that can show those around me that I am a living testimony of Love, of Faith, of forgiveness and strength.  

My scars are nothing I am ashamed of anymore, so I bear them openly.  Ask about them, the history behind each one has shaped me into the person I am today.  

God Bless those that have taken a moment to read this, to connect with a part of me.  

From my youth

For  Black History Month I thought I would share something I wrote as a teen, that entails my experiences…

So is this really my culture to bear,

just because I am the only black man in the room – does not

make me a shadow.

My voice sounds like a whip

my walk is an echo of every march to unify our Nation

my tears are rivers that lead from captivity to equality 

and when you see me – 

I am still just a wish never dreamed of

a thunderstorm you long to drive through

yet safety is found under black roof tops that shelter you from

the truth.

So I stand in every room 


Cracking my whip across misled perceptions

because being black is not a conception to be used to be 

less than

it means the scars that have been covered by progress

are not to be forgotten

the sting of once open wounds has not dissipated

only numbed

Within our hearts we relieve the triumph of everyone who

spoke and died for us

So this whip I swing back and pray you feel it snap across your conscious.  That being alive, is being human

that is what we are all struggling to be, 




The truth….
Unimaginable, untangible,

Maybe to scarring to recall. 

Holding on to blind ambiton, 

I-we, have followed you here.

Nothing promised in this cool dark night yet our footsteps are one.  Marching loudly into the bursting warmth of daylight.  I dare not speak to my neighbors who look on just as scared as me.  

Hoping to touch solid ground, we have lemminged towards the worlds edge.   Taking science over heart, words over faith, decomposition of flesh over a higher cause. 

My soul cries out!

Believing that we live without purpose, substance.  

Jump, is the cry heard above this blaring silence. It echoes back through us and it begans.  No one claims shouting it out, lead by what might have been heard by one of us, a multitude  follows that empty shroud over the edge.

Still , there in the middle one stops to look around. Reaches arms out and halts those behind.  

Open your eyes, none of this….

Is real.



We gathered as one under these
Whistling leaves of forgotten dreams, looking for absolution in the feathered tipped grass that enterwined itself between our toes.  
Somewhere between belief and and fear we lost connection to this whole we had become.  
It began with a look, that spread like wind upon the hillside, misunderstood glances passing between closed eyes. 
They became ill fated followers of the same cause, believing they could change the heart of the masses by rewriting who we were.
Fear turned to hate, blasphemy  we all cried. No longer pointing fingers, weapons drew, blood shed, tears fell from the clouds in a tireless torrent  of who we used to be. Desperately  trying to glue back the seams which we burst in foolish pride.  We flooded the streets that day, crying  for the truth which laid before us, blinded by our will to lead beyond the muted black and white world we had shaped with our own hands.  Yet, somewhere in the middle of hysteria, one fell to a knee. Looked up at those standing around in confusion and said forgive me. Help me, I have lost my footing upon mistaken solid ground.  



 Moving steadily down the moutainside and enveloping the weary in its path.  Giving cause to sudden spurts of breathlessness amid calming sun rays.  Pulling down those withered organic forms from atop and flowing like water, down across wiliting grass.  The songs of last season seem incomplete amid the noise of the oncoming clouds.  Tirelessly  they cling to that mute warmth that lead them through sleepless nights.  Pushing through the gradient and onto level pastures, it hits with a curiosity ,

 of what was there, from where it came.  Its chill holds the soothing beats of birds flight, rocking my mind to ease.  I am  compelled to wander  upward, against the tide.  Looking for answers with closed eyes, I find solace in laying down and letting this movement   take me away from here.