innocence | innocence

Oct.29.2009 Deadly bloodbath in a courtoom The question I ask myself is why was that innocent woman killed in the court and I don't understand why the authorities didn't react earlier to avoid such a tragedy. Her name is Marwa Al-Sherbany and she is an Egyptian National who was attacked for wearing an Islamic headscarf. The attacker, Alex...	Oct.04.2009 Two forty five a.m. This morning, I was unwittingly drawn to unearthing this photograph of my sons. It depicts them on Inishbofin Island, off the coast of Galway, about ten years ago, clad in rain gear, after a ramble around the wild terrain of the Atlantic landscape, that can be, both jaggedly cruel and stunningly...
May.09.2009 Some Days Jar Some days don't work out like you hoped they would. They jar. They don't gel. Think about it. You wake up and open your eyes to the morning and for a brief few seconds its a little bit like when you were a kid. When all the days seemed to be full of promise, the stretch before you full of only good...	Mar.01.2009 The Weeping Sky The sky is weeping as I cried For the lost heart of the innocent child, Cry on my shoulder, heavens, I've seen it all, Children now run before they crawl.
Feb.20.2009 A child's view of evolution on Darwin's birthday Once upon a time... I had a maid while I was growing up. She was African American; her name was Ann, her husband's name was Roy. She took care of me and our home five days a week from the time I was two until I was fifteen. These days you'd call her a nanny. She lived in Harlem - which was...	Sep.16.2008 The Ruminations Of A Young Girl As the day drags to an end and tiredness wins over energy, I attempt to rejuvenate with a warm bath. Enclosed in a box- body and mind. Trapped in the confines of where I ought to be. My mind crosses lines rebelliously. As I feel the water from the shower slipping down my body- caressing lovingly...
Apr.24.2008 My "The New Yorker" Poetry Submission Part 6 of 6: "The Pop-Up Book" Yeah, this is my last piece of poetry I promise to subject you to (FOR NOW...) and this one is a doozy. It's reflection about the first hard-on I remembered getting when I was five years old...and how it terrified me. 'Nuff said, right? Thanks for taking the time. The Pop-Up Book Oh my...

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