Dear Mom

Dear Mom,
There is so much I want to say to you. As I have grown older, I have developed a greater appreciation for the woman that you are and the role you play in my life. Everything that I am I owe to you. I am because you are. I am blessed beyond measure to have you as the rock that taught me by example what it means to stand.
For years I have watched you  labouring, loving, supporting and providing for your family without complaint. You are truly a woman of God – a woman of Proverbs 31. You are creative,  industrious,  talented,  determined. Many of the skills I have mastered in this life (like sewing, baking, creating) were inspired by you.
I know the days are many when you question why some things happen, why your burden is so heavy and sometimes,  God forbid, you may think we do not appreciate you. But Olive Isadora Edwards, my lifeline and literal reason for being, on this day, know that I love you and appreciate you. WE love you and appreciate you. We know we are able to stumble fearlessly through life because of the sacrifices you have made and we are grateful for every single one.
I love you. For being the best mother you can be, for loving me in spite of the mess that I am, for supporting me, and for teaching me by example what it truly means to be a mother, a wife and a friend.
You are not without your flaws. Like the rest of us here on earth, you make mistakes. But no wrong you have ever done or mistake you have ever made can outshine the awesomeness of you. Your job is not an easy one. There is no salary, there are no fringe benefits. You don’t get vacation or days off and you don’t get to call in sick. For every day of your life since that fateful day in April 1985 you have had to show up for work regardless how you felt and I know there must have been days when you had other stuff going on that made it hard to be present. But because you showed up EVERY SINGLE DAY I got a chance at life, to be this woman who is the product of your efforts. I hope some day to make you proud.
I could keep going for days about the awesomeness of you but I won’t. Instead I leave you with this letter to reread as you see fit, every time you begin to doubt just how loved you are, how special you are, and how wonderful it truly feels to have you around. Three human beings owe their existence to YOU. Three human beings have blossomed into amazing adults because of YOUR time, effort and dedication. There is no job in the world that can top that kind of accomplishment.
I love you. I admire you. I respect you.  And I adore you.


Happy Mother’s Day!

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The Forgotten

Today is no special day.
You will not gird your loins with black
And parade city streets calling for justice
To assuage your guilty conscience.
You will not scream at the top of your lungs
For an end to the atrocities that once plagued your sleepless nights.
You will not issue public statements
Stage vigils and walks or runs
Making sure there is sufficient press presence
To validate you “actions” and “contributions”.
You will not go to bed angry or appalled.
Instead you will think with nostalgia
On the week you’ve been having and how blessed you are to be alive.
You will be thrilled with your circumstance
Thankful and optimistic.
You will go to bed happy;
Content with the knowledge that your daughters lie in bed in the rooms next door.
You will say a prayer thanking God for His mercies,
A spirit of thanksgiving for all the blessings you enjoy.
Yes, today will be just an ordinary day.

By now you have forgotten my story
As my photo from a family album no longer takes precedence on
Or decorates your screen on the nightly news.
You are no longer perturbed.
Your anger has waxed cold
And your frustration has waned.
How easily you forget me and my circumstance
How easily your protests and angry proclamations give way to quiet acceptance.
How easily you tire in the face of opposition
How easily you surrender to the evil in this world
Choosing silence over resilience
Passiveness over action
How easily you allow evil to win
And allow my suffering to mean nothing.

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The Dilemma of Justice

Mother cries
but justice blind
cannot see
her misery.

Justice sighs
she realizes
it’s not her call
who will take the fall –
Her hands are tied
she’s been denied.

Killer free
what jubilee
He makes his speech
To society,
“Thank you friends
What glorious end!”

For mother who cries
and still relies
on a system flawed
Her only reward
Is to forever be
Held at its mercy.

And so we pray
that justice may
one day see
And set us free
From the very chains
That we have made
Of the despair
That we create
When we foster hate.

This the curse
Of our universe
That man be seen
as the colour of skin
Or the role he plays
On this here stage.

So Justice knows,
the story goes
She is here
But to appear
A safeguard for
The weak and poor
But actually
In reality
She serves the end
Of greater men
Who’ve found the way
To tip the scale,
Their marionette
She must abet.

Could Justice speak
She’d rant and scream
She would travail
For all she’s failed.
But Justice dear
Can’st see nor hear
And waits on us
Wanting to trust
That we will do
What’s right and true
Giving her her due
Freedom to rule
Sans prejudice
As truth’s accomplice.


Image taken from

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Writing Again

I am writing again. After a lengthy hiatus brought on by my return to the corporate world. Much to my surprise, I do not feel the dread and disdain I imagined would accompany the transition. Still, it has gotten in the way of writing, which I am working on fixing.

I took the decision to start fresh. Instead of carrying over the 100 plus posts I wrote in the span of three years between 2012 and 2015 [still available on my blog this will be my first post. My writing has changed as have I, and I wanted this blog to reflect those changes.

So here’s to the unknown, and my ever favorite – new beginnings.

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