I met a man online who was a long-distance trucker
I was weary of his career and didn’t want to be a sucker
He had been driving many miles and decided to take a break
He said he was searching for that special number 8
She didn’t have to be perfect or of a voluptuous size
Just be able to carry on a conversation and intrigue his mind
Trying to find that unique someone to share his life
Who could understand, be sympathetic, and with no strife
He knew he had little time to give because he was married
Already married to the cross-country roads so he tarried
I could hear the loneliness in is voice and sensed his uneasiness
He confessed he wanted to settle down and have someone to finesse with
He admitted he chose this life of a trucker because it fit
Like a hand in a glove when he was 20 but now he’s 48ish
His career has taken its toll and now doesn’t look so great
I’ve heard with the lonely trucker comes much heartache
The more I thought, pondered, and prayed I soon saw the truth
The lonely trucker wasn’t lonely as he said, and I had the proof
Facebook photos, Instagram posts, and late-night confessions
The mask slipped and revealed the heart as I listened
City to city, house to house, bedroom door to bedroom door
No thanks, I’ll keep my heart for Mr. Right not for someone looking to score
Oh! What a crush I had
Following so close behind
Hoping and wishing he’d look back
Did he notice did he see me
Muscle bound and luscious lips on fire
If I could taste it would quench my desire
As it so happened I’d get that chance
School project alone or was it happenstance
He felt my lust for him without saying a word
Reached over pulled me in close I was weak as a bird
Taking full advantage of the minute or two alone
I felt his biceps and smelled his cologne
Mouth open tongue out desire and passion
Filled the room until the door came crash-in
Back to work you guys whew that was close
Still remembering years later passion froze
I know I’ve got a good read when the novel grabs me by the hand on the first page. It pulls me line by line refusing to let me go that’s when I know I’m off on an amazing adventure.
I run through the sentences like playing the game Hide and Go Seek anxiously awaiting to feel what’s about to happen next.
As the characters unfold I talk to them as if they were my mother, my sister, or my best friend. Scolding, crying, comforting, and wrapping my arms around
their pain. My heart races to the rhythm of each word. It’s so hard to put you down even for a moment. I look up and it’s 2 a.m. and I must go to work in the morning.
We will meet again tomorrow, same time, same place.
Some of those books are:
- Cooked by Jeff Henderson
- The Road of Lost Innocence by Somaly Mam
- Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston.
I write because I heard a voice that said, “Write what you hear.”
As I listened in closely and pressed my inner ear
I began to hear these words come together like something I’ve never heard before
It started drizzling, raining, thunder and lightning
Thumping my heart to release the caged word
Here it comes pushing the award-winning article out
Poetry, poems, stories untold yet ready to be heard
This is why I write
I attended the Epitome Awards Gala in Dallas, TX, in October 2015. I was one of the nominees for the “Testimony of the Year” award. I won the award for an article I wrote for Epitome magazine, “I Will Live and Not Die,” which was about my spiritual
and physical battle with kidney disease.
I received many warm embraces and saw many smiling faces from people who came up to me after the ceremony to congratulate me on my award and tell me how my story really touched and inspired them. They wanted my business card, wanted to know if I had a website, or if I had a blog, but I had nothing but a testimony.
I went with my family and a friend to an Italian restaurant in Dallas to celebrate and just so happened this lovely woman who I met earlier was there.
When I was about to leave, she grabbed me by my hand and started walking me toward the door, and I followed her thinking where is she taking me.
She stood me firmly by the wall next to this tall and handsome gentleman wearing a black tux and said distinctly, “Miracle meet miracle. Honey tell her your story.”
At that moment, my heart started beating faster in anticipation of what was to come because I knew this was a God moment. He began to tell me how he survived a plane crash, had many broken bones, and couldn’t walk for six years. My mouth fell open, but no words would form. I looked at him up and down as he stood next to me straight as an arrow with feet firmly planted in God, no doubt.
I replied as I stumbled over my words, “You’ve been through the fire and don’t even smell like smoke.”
I will never forget his response, he popped his collar up trying to be cool and hunched his shoulders while cocking his head to the side and replied, “I haven’t even been singed.”
I sit here in my bedroom in my comfortable white high back chair next to the window listening to the rainfall while reminiscing over the words to gospel singer Marvin Sapp’s song, Testimony, as tears well up in my eyes.
He sings, “…experienced loss at a major cost but I never lost faith in You. So if you see me cry, it’s just a sign that I, I’m still alive. I’ve got some scars but I’m still alive. In spite of calamity, He still has a plan for me and it’s working for my good and it’s building my testimony. I’m so glad I made it…”
(For more see my YouTube video in the About section).
It’s the end of July and I was feeling the intensity of the simmering southern heat while visiting my sister and her family in Raleigh, N.C. I found myself reclining on her comfortable sofa in her air-conditioned living room while holding a newborn baby boy only 6 weeks old. As I sat there smelling the top of his forehead to breathe in that newborn baby smell, I rubbed my hands softly through his silky black curls.
My sister Stephanie leaned over and whispered in my ear, “That’s a miracle you’re holding.”
I looked at her sideways because I didn’t catch on to what she was saying, but then I suddenly recalled what happened just two years earlier. I said, “Ahaha, yes, he is a miracle.” This is my cousin Jonathan’s baby.
I visited Jonathan two years earlier when he was in the hospital. Jonathan always wore a warm smile that could take the chill off of any room when he walked through the door. At age 25 and 5′ 11″ with a slim build and a head full of black locs barely touching his shoulders, Jonathan found himself in the ring fighting the toughest opponent that he could imagine, Cancer.
Jonathan was misdiagnosed several times and sent home with a diagnosis of bronchitis. He knew it was something more because the symptoms persisted and would not go away.
I wondered if it was because he didn’t have medical insurance that the hospitals kept sending him home with only medication.
With a persistent cough, strep throat, and chest congestion, Jonathan dragged himself to yet another hospital looking for some relief. When they took a chest x-ray he was told the grim diagnosis by the doctor that he had lymphoma.
According to the American Cancer Society, lymphoma attacks the cells, which are part of the body’s immune system.
Jonathan was admitted to the hospital and immediately started chemotherapy treatments. As he lay in the hospital bed distraught over the news he started calling his family and friends. To his surprise, he noticed that the ones closest to him did not come to see him right away. He thought as the minutes turned to hours and the hours turned to days lying there watching the clock, are they afraid of me because I have Cancer?
Jonathan turned to the only true and faithful friend he had and that was God. He prayed for deliverance, healing, and restoration as he recited the scriptures over and over.
Psalm 23:4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.
Then suddenly he started to see his friends and family members come one by one peering from around the corner as they timidly tapped on the hospital door bringing balloons, get well cards, and flowers by the dozens, which brought a sweet aroma to his cold sterile room.
When I walked in the room to see my handsome cousin he was looking thinner than usual and weary from this fight. I told him you’ll make it through this. God can do it — only believe. Desperately trying to give him a glimmer of hope, I said in a trembling voice, when you come through this the world will know that you are a fighter and that it was God who delivered you.
He slowly turned his head and gave me a partial smile and said, “I know you don’t know this cuz, but I am taking chemo now as we speak.”
I looked at the IV in his arm and a chill ran down the back of my neck and down my spine. He was right, I didn’t know. When I gazed into his eyes his eyelids slowly begun to close as he drifted off to sleep. I sat there for several minutes unable to move and lowered my head in prayer. I leaned over the bed railing and kissed him on the forehead with a salty kiss and quietly left the room trembling unable to hold back the tears as they rolled down my cheeks.
Jonathan had to undergo months of grueling outpatient treatments. His cousin Rich was devastated by the news. He always felt a bond with Jonathan and didn’t want to lose his cousin to this disease. Rich noticed that Jonathan’s locs started falling out one-by-one and his hair started getting thinner and thinner. Frantically trying to find a way to support his cousin and help him in this fight, Rich made a pact that they both would cut off their long locs together. One day they both went to the barbershop and Rich had his haircut first one long loc at a time, then Jonathan.
“It’s only hair,” Rich said reluctantly as he picked up the long strands lying on the floor of the barbershop with a half-smile on his face.
After 7 months of outpatient treatments, Jonathan was told the tumors were gone. It’s been two years now and Jonathan is healthy, strong, and full of energy. He was told by the doctors that he may never be able to father children. The miracle baby is proof that God can do anything but fail.
If I had to pick one word to describe Jonathan it would be “FIGHTER.”
For more information on Lymphoma, go to the American Cancer Society (ACS) http://www.acs.org.
I’ve been on the rollercoaster all day long. Sometimes I fight. Yes, sometimes I fight. I get yelled at even if I’m right. Trying hard to concentrate, sit still, and pay attention. Mom yells, don’t act up and come home with detention. When I see my cousins I get so excited! Running and jumping and laughing until we cry. When it’s time to go home I breathe a long sigh.
All I need is a hug.
I wrap my arms tightly around your neck and turn my cheek to smooch your cheek. My little body holds on tight as my feet dangle caught up in your big daddy arms feeling loved. My eyes closed as I feel the rising in your chest next to mine.
All I need is a hug
I love you and want you to know it. Like honeybees to a honey jar I’m not afraid to show it. We’ve travelled this road like a train at full speed. I hurt you cry. You smile, I laugh. You got me and I got you. You will always be my sister.
All I need is a hug.
Bluewater sprouting five feet high
White stones, green grass, brown sand
Tall trees standing thick, statuesque
Bright clear skies, Robins perch nearby
Sweet sound, quiet, serene