Being back there again was hard. His memory was in every nook and cranny, as I used to walk around with him on his safety checks of the building at times and I had avoided dealing with the reality of him being gone, but here it haunted me and it was all I could think about. On this particular day, those thoughts were shook by death of a different kind. The television hanging on the wall was blaring with.reports of death of an unimaginable magnitude. America was under attack and my day had just become even harder, but then I realized it was no longer just about me. September had forever become a time of grief for my entire country. Even in times of political and racial division, September still brings our hearts and minds together, if just for one moment of silence when the bell tolls. As the fifteenth September 11th since 2001 comes to a close, I pray that closure will come in more ways than one and that it will transition from a time of mourning to a time of dancing. Celebrating that we were once privileged to know those souls that we lost. Remembering the lives once abundant and asking "O Death, where is your sting...?".
THE FIFTEENTH SEPTEMBER
Being back there again was hard. His memory was in every nook and cranny, as I used to walk around with him on his safety checks of the building at times and I had avoided dealing with the reality of him being gone, but here it haunted me and it was all I could think about. On this particular day, those thoughts were shook by death of a different kind. The television hanging on the wall was blaring with.reports of death of an unimaginable magnitude. America was under attack and my day had just become even harder, but then I realized it was no longer just about me. September had forever become a time of grief for my entire country. Even in times of political and racial division, September still brings our hearts and minds together, if just for one moment of silence when the bell tolls. As the fifteenth September 11th since 2001 comes to a close, I pray that closure will come in more ways than one and that it will transition from a time of mourning to a time of dancing. Celebrating that we were once privileged to know those souls that we lost. Remembering the lives once abundant and asking "O Death, where is your sting...?".
IT TAKES A VILLAGE
#villagereport
Twitter 9 p.m.
August 17, 2016
Purple Reign
Woke up with you on mind
Watched the angels flying by
Painting purple in the sky
I haven't written much lately. My two-year-old has assured it. I'm a night owl by nature, but she often awakens me before the sun. At least I get to see the sunrise, albeit with one eye open. The colors are amazing. I've seen a lot of Cotton Candy and Carolina Blue, but yesterday before I even looked outside, I caught glimpse of a purple hue over Washington Nationals Park between the blinds. I rubbed my eyes, thinking I was dreaming of Prince since the media is flooded with his favorite color, in memoriam. Nope, still purple. On top of that, the clouds looked like angels flying over and Prince's hometown Minnesota Twins were in town. Awesome.
I came of age during the 'Purple Reign' when Prince dominated radio, stage and screen. He was one of my first artistic inspirations. My friends and I memorized his dance routines and internalized his lyrics about life, love and loss.Thirty years later he was still going strong as a musical genius, songwriter, champion for artists' rights and humanitarian. No wonder the world is adorned in purple right now. How befitting that the heavens felt obliged to do the same. Rest in peace, Sweet Prince.
A Diva's Heart
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