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  • Friday Favorites: Why did God make me Black?
  • A POEM A DAY 239
  • WORDS OF WISDOM #76
  • A POEM A DAY 238
  • Friday Favorites: I Will Not Die an Unlived Life
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  • Friday Favorites: Why did God make me Black?

    Friday Favorites: Why did God make me Black?

    May 15, 2026
    by RuNell Ni Ebo
    Lord, Lord
    Why did You make me Black?
    Why did You make someone
    the world wants to hold back?

    Black is the color of dirty clothes,
    the color of grimy hands and feet.
    Black is the color of darkness,
    the color of tire-beaten streets.

    Why did You give me thick lips,
    a broad nose and kinky hair?
    Why did You make someone
    who receives the hatred stare?

    Black is the color of the bruised eye
    when someone gets hurt.
    Black is the color of darkness,
    Black is the color of dirt.

    How come my bone structure’s so thick,
    my hips and cheeks are high?
    How come my eyes are brown
    and not the color of daylight sky?

    Why do people think I’m useless?
    How come I feel so used?
    Why do some people see my skin
    and think I should be abused?

    Lord I just don’t understand.
    What is it about my skin?
    Why do some people want to hate me
    and not know the person within?

    Black is what people are “listed”
    when others want to keep them away.
    Black is the color of shadows cast.
    Black is the end of day.

    Lord you know my own people mistreat me
    and I know this just ain’t right.
    They don’t like my hair.
    They say I’m too dark or too light.

    Lord, don’t You think it’s time for You
    to make a change?
    Why don’t You re-do creation and
    make everyone the same?

    God answered:
    Why did I make you Black?
    Why did I make you Black?
    Get off your knees and look around
    Tell me, what do you see?
    I didn’t make you in the image of darkness,

    I made you in likeness of ME!
    I made you the color of coal from which
    beautiful diamonds are formed.
    I made you the color of oil,
    the black gold that keeps people warm.

    I made you from the rich, dark earth that can
    grow the food you need.
    You color’s the same as the black stallion,
    a majestic animal is he.
    I didn’t make you in the image of darkness.
    I made you in likeness of ME!

    All the colors of the heavenly rainbow can be
    found throughout every nation.
    But when all of those colors were blended,
    you became my greatest creation.

    Your hair is the texture of lamb’s wool.
    Such a humble little creature is he.
    I am the Shepherd who watches them.
    I am the One who will watch over thee.

    You are the color of midnight sky.
    I put the star’s glitter in your eyes.
    There is a smile hidden behind your pain.
    That’s why your cheeks are so high.

    You are the color of dark clouds formed,
    when I send My strongest weather.
    I made your lips full so when you kiss
    the one that you love, they will remember.

    Your stature is strong, your bone structure thick
    to withstand the burdens of time.
    The reflection you see in the mirror…
    The image that looks back is MINE.

    Originally posted on my blog: https://harvest-life.org/2020/09/25/poem-why-did-god-make-me-black-by-runell-ni-ebo/

    Photo by Nick Owuor (astro.nic.portraits) on Unsplash

    ©mylifeinword.com All rights reserved.

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  • A POEM A DAY 239

    A POEM A DAY 239

    May 14, 2026
    Ghost in the Fog
    In the hush where morning lingers,
    A pale spirit parts the mist,
    Silent as an ancient secret,
    Soft as winter on the wrist.
    Eyes like weathered moons are watching,
    Calm beneath the silver sky,
    Holding storms it never speaks of,
    Letting passing shadows die.
    Ghost-white mane in quiet motion,
    Breath dissolving into air,
    A lonely king of fog and stillness,
    Wrapped in silence, there.
    No trumpet call, no thundering gallop,
    Only presence, deep and slow—
    Like a dream the earth remembers
    From a thousand years ago.

    Simona A. Brinson

    Photo by Sayan Ghosh on Unsplash

    ©mylifeinword.com All rights reserved.

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  • WORDS OF WISDOM #76

    May 12, 2026
    My-Life-In-Word-Words-Of-Wisdom-76

    ©mylifeinword.com All rights reserved.

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  • A POEM A DAY 238

    A POEM A DAY 238

    May 11, 2026
    Where Love Goes
    Love doesn’t leave all at once.
    It loosens first—
    a thread pulled from a seam
    you didn’t know was holding everything together.
    It settles into ordinary places:
    the quiet side of the bed,
    the mug you stop reaching for,
    the space between sentences
    where something used to answer back.
    It lingers in the body,
    a muscle that remembers
    how to reach without thinking,
    how to turn toward warmth
    that is no longer there.
    Some of it hardens—
    becomes caution,
    a practiced distance,
    the instinct to step back
    before the ground gives way again.
    Some of it softens into memory,
    edges blurred,
    voices lowered,
    like a room you once lived in
    but no longer enter.
    And some of it—
    the part that was always yours—
    does not die at all.
    It waits,
    unclaimed,
    learning a new shape
    in the quiet.

    Simona A. Brinson

    Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

    ©mylifeinword.com All rights reserved.

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  • Friday Favorites: I Will Not Die an Unlived Life

    Friday Favorites: I Will Not Die an Unlived Life

    May 8, 2026
    by Dawna Markova
    I will not die an unlived life.
    I will not live in fear
    of falling or catching fire.
    I choose to inhabit my days,
    to allow my living to open me,
    to make me less afraid,
    more accessible;
    to loosen my heart
    until it becomes a wing,
    a torch, a promise.
    I choose to risk my significance;
    to live so that which came to me as seed
    goes to the next as blossom
    and that which came to me as blossom,
    goes on as fruit.

    This poem speaks to me as a declaration of choosing life in its fullest, most vulnerable form. It rejects fear as a guiding force and instead embraces openness, even when that openness brings risk. The lines about “inhabiting my days” and allowing life to “open me” suggest that living fully requires presence and a willingness to be changed by experience, rather than staying guarded or detached.

    I’m especially drawn to the idea of loosening the heart “until it becomes a wing, a torch, a promise.” That transformation feels powerful—it turns something fragile into something capable of flight, illumination, and hope. To me, it suggests that when we let go of fear and control, we gain freedom, purpose, and the ability to inspire both ourselves and others.

    The poem also reflects a deep trust in growth and continuity. The imagery of seed, blossom, and fruit reminds me that every stage of life has value and that what we experience doesn’t end with us—it carries forward. Overall, the poem feels like a personal commitment to live bravely, to embrace change, and to trust that a fully lived life will create something meaningful beyond itself.

    Photo by Raimond Klavins on Unsplash

    ©mylifeinword.com All rights reserved.

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  •  A POEM A DAY 237

     A POEM A DAY 237

    May 6, 2026

    Dissonance

    He wakes to sunlight tasting wrong,
    a sweetness cut with metal bright,
    the clock ticks loud but time feels bent,
    each second stretching out of sight.
    His smile fits like borrowed clothes,
    warm at first, then tight with seams,
    his laughter cracks in brittle notes
    that splinter softly through his dreams.
    He moves through rooms that buzz and hum,
    air thick as wool inside his chest,
    his heart beats out of sync—two truths,
    one pulling on, one laid to rest.

    Simona A. Brinson

    Photo by Teena Lalawat on Unsplash
    ©mylifeinword.com All rights reserved.

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  • WORDS OF WISDOM #75

    May 5, 2026
    My-Life-In-Word-Words-Of-Wisdom-75

    ©mylifeinword.com All rights reserved.

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  •  A POEM A DAY 236

     A POEM A DAY 236

    May 4, 2026

    Neon Red

    My crush comes flashing neon red,
    a stoplight pulse inside my head.
    It hums beneath my quiet skin,
    a siren song I’m pulled right in.
    I try to cool it down to blue,
    pretend I feel what others do,
    but every thought ignites instead,
    my heart lit up in neon red.
    It glows too loud, it won’t behave,
    a reckless color I can’t save.
    If love’s a sign I should have read—
    it’s blazing bright in neon red.

    Simona A. Brinson

    Photo by Alina Rubo on Unsplash

    ©mylifeinword.com All rights reserved.

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  • Friday Favorites: LISTEN TO THE MUSTN’TS

    May 1, 2026
    by Shel Silverstein

    This poem should be framed and hung on the wall of every child because it quietly but powerfully rewrites the limits adults so often place on young minds. Shel Silverstein moves through the language children hear every day—“don’ts,” “shouldn’ts,” “impossibles”—and then deliberately overturns them, replacing restriction with possibility. It’s not just encouragement; it’s permission. In a world that conditions children to measure themselves against rules, outcomes, and expectations, this poem offers a counter-voice that affirms imagination as something valid, necessary, and enduring. Displayed on a wall, it becomes more than decoration—it becomes a daily interruption of doubt, a reminder that creativity and belief are not naive, but essential.

    What makes this poem especially meaningful to me is that I didn’t encounter it as a child, but as an adult—around thirty-one—when I bought Where the Sidewalk Ends for myself. And yet, it felt instantly familiar, as if it had been waiting for me all along. I didn’t have to memorize it; it simply stayed, embedding itself into my thinking like a quiet anthem for the daydreamer I’ve always been. That lasting imprint is exactly why it belongs in a child’s environment. If it can reach an adult with that kind of permanence, imagine what it can do for a child who grows up seeing it every day—before the world has a chance to convince them otherwise.

    ©mylifeinword.com All rights reserved.

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  •  A POEM A DAY 235

     A POEM A DAY 235

    April 29, 2026

    Still, She Is

    She wakes before the world is ready and carries the day anyway.
    She learns early how to hold two truths at once: strength and softness, fear and resolve.
    She becomes fluent in adaptation—not because she wants to, but because life keeps asking.
    She is not extraordinary because she never breaks.
    She is extraordinary because she does—and still shows up.
    Still laughs. Still loves. Still chooses to care in a world that profits from her silence.
    She knows the cost of being accommodating and the risk of refusing.
    She edits herself for safety, then unlearns that habit slowly, painfully.
    She practices saying no without apology and yes without explanation.
    She holds generations in her body—lessons passed through glances, warnings whispered, courage inherited.
    She becomes a refuge for others even while learning how to rest herself.
    She is both unfinished and enough.
    If you listen closely, you will hear it:
    not just what she endures,
    but what she imagines into being.
    Still, she is here.
    Still, she matters.
    Still, she is becoming.

    Simona A. Brinson

    Photo by Bibek Maharjan on Unsplash

    ©mylifeinword.com All rights reserved.

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