justice is the lords’

left to my own devices

i am vengeful, weak and  judgemental

i seek to control situations and get angry when my efforts are defeated

today i had all sorts of vindictive thoughts running through my head

all the crafty, twisted little ways i could slice someone, tell them about themself

i really had myself going, all sorts of blueprints drafted in detestation

then i heard the word

that justice is the lords

and i had a reality check. a humility check.

that no matter how fucked up other people are, how angry i get, how unjustly i am treated,

vengeance is the lords. 

justice is the lords. 

i am the not the lord. it is not my place to reprimand, to correct errors, to point out flaws

the only reason we should acknowledge the flaws in others is only to deepen our hatred of what is ugly within us. In turn, deepening our wonder of a God who forgives so much.

how quickly i forget. how foolish i am on my own.

so i took all that crippling animosity and turned it into a prayer.

that i would be wise about the ways i pursue justice.

that God would throw my anger into an ocean of grace like a block of salt. dissolve it in the vastness of His love. let the waves of redemption renew my heart.


drinking wine to stay warm




the hilltops.

vendors and anticipation fill the street and my feet

keep moving but

i want it to stop.

i want time to stop and and take our picture

i want love to sync itself to logic

and our fingers to stay intertwined though all of it.

drinking wine to stay warm

in the middle of summer

the east bay is like that

an anomaly

he says i am like that

i say you are goosebumps in the sun/red wine on an empty stomach/biting my tongue to save face

and all i want is to never forget your face.


Things Fall Apart//Character

I think when most of us are faced with a problem, we attempt to resolve it a particular way. And when that way fails, we use intensify our efforts. Rather than being frustrated by repeated efforts, sometimes solutions emerge more clearly in the quietness of letting go than it will in the urgency, frustration, and desperation of pushing harder. 

Today was heavy. I’ve been challenged in more ways than one. Life is like that sometimes. It’s failed efforts, frustration, headaches and obstacles. It falls apart sometimes. Life is biting your lip and swallowing your pride. It’s speaking beauty and truth despite all the lies. It’s remaining positive even when your voice shakes and your eyes cry – but not till you leave the building, because you’re a strong woman who can handle character assaults. And thats the thing about character. Is that when we ask God for something like strength or patience, He doesn’t give us those qualities, He gives us opportunities to practice them.

Character, is who you are when no one is watching. Because decisions are made every day in our minds and in our hearts, about what kind of person we are going to be, about our character.

And to remain resilient in the face of adversity, is to build a strong character.


I wish I could tell you that 25

means everything makes sense.
that you wont spend 2 1/2 months in jail
or break up with your love
and be left broken and frail.
i wish i could tell you that life will make sense
but i don’t know that life will ever make sense
i know it makes messes of men and good christian girls sin
it makes 13 yr old’s mothers loose new born babies to cocaine they bought on MLK and Broadway
it makes me upset that the most drug and gang infested street
was named after a man who endured too many violent threats and defeats
knowing that he may never see the day
where Laquetta and Trevonte won’t have to give up their seats
instead they’re giving up hope
because mom is working the corner and dad’s in jail still selling coke.Mariah i hope (you know)
that you are that one lit street light
in this ghetto ally way on the coldest night
you stand flickering, radiating warmth
to the war vet clutching his bagged recyclable treasures like a grenade
not knowing if he wants to die or be saved
radiating warmth
to the teenage prostitute spelling patriarchy with her tongue on the stomach of men twice her age with daughters just as young
radiating warmth to every young poet scribbling on coffee house napkins
to the goddess in me trying to breathe in the church but feeling trapped in

Mariah i don’t know that life will ever make sense
but i know that we are
where we are supposed to be
and that community is an ideal worth living for
even if its just you and me.
or you and her.
or me and Dan.