Bob Marley

“Lively up yourself
And don’t be no drag.”
An encourager through music was he.
A much needed spirit lifter.
When I look at the people of Jamaica…
Hard labor for low wages.
Farming, and selling goods for daily survival.
Songs of redemption and pride.
Singing mama, wife, daughter,
“no woman, no cry,”
I would afford you a better life, if I could.
“Don’t worry about a ting,
Cause every little ting is gonna be alright.”
And so it shall.
Remind the people that God sees all.
Trust Him.
He will bring justice.
Do not fear or worry about anything.
Keep up your head.
You were built for the very course you are on.
“One love, one heart.
Let’s get together and feel alright.”
We are all in this same struggle.
For life, justice, peace, and happiness in a broken world.



The plane touched down on American soil.
Hard, as if not anticipating the upcoming runway.
And without intent or expecting it
A sigh of relief escapes my lungs.
I breathe freer here.
After spending a week in Jamaica.
The appreciation I have for their genuine smiles
Gives me a new found gratitude for people.
For despite the hard scrabble life & misfortune.
The difficulties inherent in living in a 3rd world country.
They’ve found joy.
They simplify to the elements of it.
I am grateful for the reminder that
There is nothing wrong with simplicity.
I pray it rubbed off on me.
As I go back to my day-to-day.
I think of them.
Realizing that a chance.
A touch of providence.
A God intended fate step
Removed me from that course
And placed me on this one.
Because of this I am different.
My life is different.
But I am forever humbled to know
That, for whatever purpose,
I was spared a similar fate.


Water on all sides
we drive.
Down and around winding roads.
With fear and exhiliration
playing on the nerves.
Fearing to not slip off the sides
to a watery doom.
My fear, driving on the side that seems wrong,
to not turn into oncoming traffic.
Past mountains, and over streams,
hastily, as if the night would catch us.
Something stirring inside of me.
A long buried memory…
A childhood marred in fear,
playing in rough, cluttered streets,
walking along with brothers to school & beaches.
It tastes different here to me.
Where something in the air makes it hard to breathe.
Then I remember I had asthma as a child living here.
The breeze flows off the water.
The music beats loud in the van.
The vibe of laid back plays at me.
And I wonder why I’ve always been so serious.
How different a girl I might have been,
Was I left to grow here, on the island.