Journey of the Heart

This poem was inspired by the recent Pulse Nightclub tragedy in Orlando, Florida: a town I grew up in and live near today... Like millions of others around the world I have so many emotions about the event. I felt compelled to write about it and started several different essays, eventually tearing each one up, feeling my words could never say enough to do justice to or pay tribute to the 49 beautiful souls gunned down by hate. Days passed and then while sitting in my home office listening to the pulsing water as it hit my roof on a rainy afternoon, these words arrived. May they be heard. May they be of benefit. Rain Prayer by Carol Reedy Rogero Wash away the choking sediment of hate transported like pollen on incendiary winds. the invisible film of separateness coating traitorous hearts. Rinse out the marrow deep prejudices the fear of that unknown, that foreign, that strange those centuries old perceptions sewed into consciousness by unconscious so...

This poem came from talking to a friend who’s going through a difficult time physically, mentally and emotionally… I shared it with my friend privately and was then going to post it on my Facebook page with the thought that it might speak to others as well.  As I started to do that, my feed opened up to the post of another friend who was voicing tremendous self doubt, from that same address of hopelessness. So instead of posting it generally, I posted it as a reply to her. She was overwhelmed with gratitude. For me it was as if the universe was affirming that I was doing the right thing, and for her it was proof that the universe did hear! I’ve been at that noisy, despairing place myself, and I know from experience that you can’t move forward, overcome obstacles, or have any kind of success if you don’t have hope. Without hope, the pain of the situation not only continues, and we begin to spiral into a soul sucking vortex of negativity that is difficult to escape. The ...

This poem came to me as one of my adolescent students entered the classroom… As they arrive each morning I welcome my students at the door. On this particular day, with this particular student, the very moment our eyes met I knew that something had drastically changed her world. Reflecting on my own experiences at her age and wanting her to know that I cared, I asked her privately if she was OK. She gave me only a quiet “yes” and a nod. I could only tell her I’d be there if she wanted to talk. In the end she didn’t come to me or confide in me that day, but the hard hug she gave me on the last day she was at school told me that she knew I cared. Take My Hand by Carol Reedy Rogero Take My Hand Vacant eyes heavily lidded with life darkening curtains of sorrow. Emptiness where buoys of hope should float in the pool of one so young. What pirate ravaged you dear child? Who poached the cheer from your smile? When did a ghostly shadow eclipse your hunter’s mo...