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BROKEN WELL
w h e r e ' s w a l d o ?
Where is Waldo?
Who is Waldo?
He is the never invited.
The one who can’t be sighted
behind the mask of low self-worth
or the artistry never set forth.
Waldo is the six percent
holding to the glimpses of hope
fleeting each day, allowing them to cope.
He is the unaffiliated Greek,
the one who is afraid to speak,
the shy one labeled as “freak.”
Who is Waldo within an ocean of extroverts
of public speakers and over-involved leaders?
He is the nameless,
but the ones who epitomize progress.
He is the backstage supporter,
the brilliant reporter,
the bench warmer of the first quarter.
Waldo is the endearing fighter,
the eloquent writer,
and the one who makes every situation lighter.
He is the poet, the photographer, the international student, the introvert, the comic, the A and C student, the lover, the worshipper, the student next to us in class.
You are Waldo. I am Waldo.
We are Waldo.
Where is Waldo?
He is hidden, but stubborn.
He is ignored, but steadfast.
He is overwhelmed, but always smiling.
Waldo can change the culture if we include him,
if we listen to his plea,
if we usher him to first place as we take third.
Waldo is in the library or in the studio.
Waldo is crying in his room or reading in a meadow.
Waldo is to be found where thoughts soar, conversation flows, and love is fostered.
Waldo yearns to impact the world through quiet servitude and refuses to be subdued.
He swims against streams and embraces big dreams.
He is where we seek, where we never expect, the last place we look.
Waldo is the heart of our world, but we need to mindfully listen closely and that’s the bottom line.
g r a c e
I will forget, please, do not fret.
You are replaced with the glowing truth of who you really are for the rest is shed.
I’m serious.
Guilt is a detriment to mankind’s will of applied commandment.
Be convicted, my friend, of the inward revelation turned sentiment.
It is just given.
All you had to do was make a mistake.
The rest is taken care of.
Do not be afraid of what falls behind, it is slower for a reason.
You are not your history.
It’s a written primary source for future reference, but never a guidebook of attitude.
I am speaking the truth when I say, you are forgiven.
Embrace the cliche, won’t you, it is repeated because we fail to completely understand it’s effect.
Yesterday has no burden on today, my friend- please, do not fret.
k n i t t e d
There’s a story, my dear,
behind those eyes,
beyond the fabric of today.
Walk slow past the hidden
and do not miss what can’t be written.
When it is stripped, you can see truth.
The love and pain that will not move.
Peer deeper into the components and
and the comfort will uncover undisclosed proof.
The design and texture of the daily
are mere coverings of the worn.
A soft touch of a scattered tragedy,
knitted through tears and bliss.
Are you listening?
Come closer, darling, can you feel it?
A shrunken allure under a camouflaged passage
garmented by a disregarded facade.
Oh, how I wish empathy was sewn into your daily intention,
gripping your attention.
These testimonies walk within a cloud of shut reception,
scratching at the sleeve of untouched messes.
Such it is, your spotlight is never on them and
you lose the thread of a romance or distresses.
Stitched within deep wounds from years of crawling,
a masterpiece risen from intricate singularities,
it is locked in the confines of dusty conversation
and lofty circumvention.
However, there maybe a discovery.
Under the fluorescents and among the chatter,
an exposition of the woven intimacies
hold the dirt and refinement of authentic matter.
If you hold fast, dear, you will unearth a glorious light,
a radiating warmth, a powerful statement of
redemption braided together with yesterday’s sight.
Listen.
Necessity to be heard and peace from then on,
do not ignore a story, a word.
The soft appeal speaks of the
strings of history’s song.
Within the wrinkles of a withered silence,
holds a sodden parable stretching to
illuminate a testimony of disregarded diamonds.
Be quiet, darling, and allow the fibers
conceive a pattern from the chronicles
of courage and composition.
The art is intertwined pieces of
a narrative of beauty and artistry,
so behold the undermined and
display a newly ironed tapestry.
h e l l o , f r i e n d
I’m good, thanks for asking.
The sun rises and sets, the birds play a tune, and the moon reflects glimmers of light.
My thoughts ebb and flow, words defeat and enchant me, and emotions are snowflakes-
unique in plain sight.
How are you?
Do you treasure the moment, the voices around, and the daily desperate plea?
Are you as authentic as a child, honest as a heart beat, and broken for all to see?
See you around.
The roots of trees grasp and hold the earth and the ocean’s majesty is contingent on space- my friend, we breathe the same air and share the same place.
As the stem holds the flower, I want to lift up your beauty, asking for nothing in return
and see you flourish.
Scratch the truth in your skin and set your heart on your sleeve-
I know the hunger and thirst, but He is the almighty who can fully nourish.
Hello, my friend.
How is your soul?
LISTEN
LISTEN: Welcome
LISTEN: Quote
LISTEN: Quote
LISTEN: Quote
LISTEN: Quote
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