A BULLET’S FIRST BREATH (POEM)

In the whisper of the tongue, we gather

words alive, vibrating with the pulse of existence

breath and thought, woven into connection

a dance of tongues, weaving dreams, or shattering hearts

Each syllable, a heartbeat

each phrase, a lifeline

In the moment spoken, we live

But we can also cut, sharp as a knife

turning joy into sorrow

with a careless flick

We carry the weight of history

the echo of laughter

the shadows of grief

Between what is said and unsaid

we wield the power of creation and destruction

Words rise like dawn’s chorus

illuminating the dark

Or descend like storms

flooding with anger, despair

We exist in the balance

of intention and interpretation

forever seeking understanding

fearing misunderstanding

So, listen closely

We are not merely sounds

We are stories etched in silence

promises held in air

In every utterance

the pulse of humanity

an invitation to rise

a warning to retreat

With every word, we shape worlds

In our essence, we know

Life and death reside in the tongue

waiting to be unleashed or held back

Choose wisely

A TIME CAPSULE (LETTER)

Dear Tim,

I hope this letter finds you in the memory of that day, standing tall on the stage before

those people, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and unwavering courage. You

were just a boy at 7, yet you possessed a strength that many grown men can only dream

of. That day, you looked out at a sea of strangers, and in the midst of them, your

father, Mark, stood up and joined you on that stage. You called him out with a voice

clear and brave, inviting him to share his truth. Your words brought him to his knees,

not in defeat, but in a vulnerable act of redemption & gratitude.

I write to you now, years later, from a place where that courage feels like a distant

echo. I am a man who has lost the connection we once shared with our father. Tall

tales of two, time, and silence have built a wall between us, and I find myself longing

for the courage you had. I dream of speaking to our father, of asking for his

forgiveness, but the words seem caught in my throat.

I look back to that moment on the stage, and I wonder: How did you do it? Where

did you find the strength to speak out, to stand tall in front of everyone, and to bring

our father into the light? How did you manage to convey so much truth, love, and

conviction in your words?

I need your advice, Tim. I need you to remind me where our courage comes from. I need

to find that same strength to reach out to our father, to bridge the gap that has grown

between us. How do I begin to mend what has been broken? How do I approach him,

knowing that my own actions have driven us apart?

In my dreams, I see you, standing there with that unwavering gaze, holding the

microphone with such purpose. I see the way you held his hand, guiding him to share

his truth. And I wonder, if you were here now, what would you tell me? How would

you guide me in finding the words to ask for his forgiveness?

Please, help me remember the courage that lies within us. Help me find the strength to speak to our father, to open up and mend our bond. I believe that, deep down, the courage of that young boy still lives in me. I just need to know how to bring it forth, how to let him shine once more