“Seven Ways I lost You”

I regret falling in love with you—
because loving you in absence
hurts more than never knowing you at all.
I built a home in your heart
but now I wander through ruins alone.
You were the dream that woke me with tears.

I regret our first kiss—
for I can no longer taste the nearness
of your skin, your breath, your body.
That kiss opened a door I can’t close,
and now my lips remember what my hands can’t reach.
It was the beginning of a beautiful ache.

I regret ever touching your soul—
because now your heart is sealed,
and mine still waits at the door.
I offered you my truth, raw and trembling,
but now silence is all you return.
You left me with echoes where a voice once lived.

I regret hearing you say “I love you”—
those words vanished too soon,
like smoke before I could hold them.
You spoke like forever,
but meant only a moment.
Now every “I love you” feels like a lie.

I regret being moved by your romance,
and fooled by its beauty—
for your voice no longer calls my name.
Your promises were petals that withered in my hands,
and your love was a language you stopped speaking.
Now I’m fluent in loss.

I regret the memories we carved together—
because they linger like ghosts,
haunting every dream.
The laughter replays in black and white,
while I wake up to emptiness.
Each moment we shared now cuts a little deeper.

And most of all—
I regret not forgetting you sooner,
because even now, I still ache for what was never truly mine.
I waited for healing, but clung to pain.
You left, but I never stopped looking back.
Some loves are only meant to break us beautifully.

“Your Love Is Like an Ocean Wave”

You say you love me
like thunder loves the sky—
loud, trembling, without doubt.
But when I reach out to you,
all I hold is smoke,
chasing waves that vanish as they rise.
You disappear into silence,
like a storm that promised rain
but never touched the thirsty earth.

You write poems on my phone,
like a smile before sunrise,
but your presence chills me
when I stand beside you.
You call me darling
when the moon is full,
but your eyes look at me
like I’m a stranger
each time we stand face to face.

You love me with beautiful words,
but your heart belongs elsewhere.
You whisper sweet things to me
and leave me in a reality
that feels like a tide
that comes for a moment
and slips away just as fast.

What do you want from me?
A soft body to hold
when your ghosts grow too loud?
A heart to borrow
when yours forgets how to beat?
Am I your comfort,
or simply your convenience?
A switch you flip when it suits you?
A flicker of light
to hide behind when the darkness creeps in?

I’m tired of dancing with shadows
that pretend they are flame.
Tired of loving
a heart that keeps shutting me out.
I’m no longer chasing a feeling
that keeps leaving me empty.
My heart needs shelter,
not stories.
A love that shows up—
not one that speaks in borrowed lines.

Unless your hands
can follow the path of your words,
unless your presence
can match the poetry you send—
don’t call it love.
It’s worse than the sea
throwing me back against the shore.
Colder than a spring
you refuse to protect.

Because real love…
makes itself known.
It stays.
It reassures.
It’s more than words.
More beautiful than hidden lines
in secret messages.
Love is what you do—
when no one is watching.
And I’ve been watching you.

And now,
I’m done giving time
to a ghost,
a shadow of love
that never became real,
that always disappears
like a torn piece of paper
lost in the arms
of a wild and wandering wind.

*See the Kreyòl original in the previous post. The English version is the translation of the original Kreyòl.

“Lanmou w se tankou yon vag lanmè”

Ou di ou renmen m
tankou loraj ki renmen syèl la—
fò, tranble, san dout.
Men lè m lonje men ba ou,
se lafimen m kenbe,
se vag lanmè m ap kouri dèyè l
Ou disparèt nan silans
tankou tanpèt ki te pwomèt dlo
men pa janm mouye tè a.

Ou ekri powèm nan telefòn mwen,
yon souri avan solèy leve
men ou ban m frèt lè m bò kote w.
Ou rele m cheri
lè lalin lan leve
men je w gade m
tankou etranje
chak fwa nou fasafas.

Ou renmen mwen ak bèl mo
men kè ou se pou yon lòt
Ou di m pawòl ki dou
men ou kite m an reyalite.
lanmou sa se vag lanmè
ki vini pou yon titan
e ki ale apre yon ti moman.

Kisa w vle nan men mwen?
Yon kò dous pou w kenbe
lè fantòm ou yo ap pale fò?
Yon kè pou w prete
lè pa w pa bat ankò?
Eske mwen se konsolasyon w
ou oubyen yon konvenyans?
Yon switch ou limen lè ou vle?
Yon limyè pou kache nan fènwa?

M bouke danse ak lonbraj
ki di se dife.
M bouke renmen
Yon kè ou repouse
M pap chache yon santiman
ki toujou fè m defo
kè m bezwen yon repozwa
pou li kache
Yon lanmou ki manifèste
pa sèlman lanmou ki pale mo franse.

Sof si men ou
ka mache ak verite pawòl ou yo,
sof si prezans ou
ka reponn ak mizik powèm ou yo—
pa bay sa non lanmou.
Sa pi mechan pase vag lanmè
ki voye kè mwen kraze sou rivaj solitid,
pi glase pase dlo sous
ou kite koule san ou pwoteje l.

Paske lanmou reyèl…
li parèt tankou limyè ki pa janm etenn,
li poze kò l nan kè yon moun
Li respire.
Li viv.
Li se silans ki pale verite,
plis pase pawòl dous
ki glise nan mesaj kache.
Li pi bèl pase tout powèm ekri anba lalin.
Lanmou se aksyon,
yon jès ki fèt lè tout je fèmen.

E kounye a,
m mete pwen final
sou tan m ap gaspiye
pou yon fantòm lanmou
yon lonbraj ki pa janm tounen kò,
yon rèv ki toujou fonn
nan mitan lannwit.
Li disparèt, chak fwa mwen lonje men,
chak fwa m leve zye m
pou m admire l
li tankou yon fèy papye pèdi
kap vole nan yon van san direksyon,
san desten,
san verite.

*See the english translation in the next post!

“What I Carried Quietly”

I carried your memory quietly,
like a stone in my chest,
The kind of weight silence gives
when there’s too much left unsaid.
It’s not that I need you to come back.
I needed you to care
while you were still here,
even when you’re far.

When I spoke of pain,
you spoke of defense.
Not once did you ask
what it cost me to stay.
You guarded your pride
while I stood there bare,
hoping for kindness and empathy,
finding only cold air.

I am not begging.
I am not broken.
But I am honest.
I only ever wanted to matter to you.
Not in some dramatic way,
Just in the quiet way people cherish
what they don’t want to lose,
the memory they once shared.

And now, I see the shift.
I experience the distance.
I feel the absence
where warmth used to be.
He fills the space I once held.
I have become a shadow
where I once was light.

You are whole now, it seems.
Complete.
Satisfied.
And I, forgettable.
A name that no longer stirs
anything in you.

But I remember.
And I release.
Not in bitterness.
Mostly for myself.
And for a new start.

So this is not a plea,
Just a letting go.
Of waiting.
Of wondering.
Of longing.
Of wishing.

I wish you peace.
I wish me peace, too.
I wish you rest.
I wish me rest, too.

In 2020, the Haitian Embassy in Washington, D.C. invited me to do a presentation on the history of the Haitian Flag.🇭🇹

Happy Haitian Flag Day!

“Go Tell the World: Africa and Haiti’s enduring Gifts to the (Western) World”

A pioneer from Haiti founded the great city of Chicago: Jean-Baptiste Point DuSable. Now, the first elected U.S. Pope in history is also from Chicago: Cardinal Robert Francis Prevost (“Pope Leo XIV”). DuSable and Pope Leo XIV—the most powerful person of the Roman Catholic expression of the Christian faith—have Haitian roots 🇭🇹 and of African ancestry.

Through Haiti, Africa has poured forth its gifts 🎁 upon the Western world—echoes of resilience, rhythm, revolution, heroic leadership, human freedom—including:

1. The first Black Governor: Toussaint Louverture
2. The first Black President: Jean-Jacques Dessalines
3. The first Black Emperor: Jean-Jacques Dessalines (Jacques I)
4. The first Black King: Henry Christophe
5. The first Black woman President: Ertha Pascal-Trouillot
6. The only country in the world that had a successful slave revolution and the first independent country in the Western world that abolished slavery.

Haiti may be a small nation currently facing political turmoil and humanitarian crises—what the great African American poet Langston Hughes once called paradoxically a ‘troubled island’—yet it remains a profoundly influential country with a complex and impactful social and political history in the global human story.

“Me, my books, and the Novelist”

I had an interesting dream last night that a friend of mine (who is also a writer and scholar) came to my house and said to me that she wants me to put all my books aside because she is going to need my office library to create a “tech library.” Without my consent, she came to the house with her secretary and started to hang on the walls tech artifacts, on shelves, and putting my books away.

When I confronted her about her decision to move my books to the office corners without my consent, she said that it is the “technological age. You won’t need printing books anymore in the future.” I was so upset and started to put my books in boxes and did not argue with her.

Now, I am mad at myself because I let her remove my books while I stayed in silence and failed to educate her and her secretary about the significance of books in print.

I am also mad at myself because I was too passive in the dream and did not advocate for myself and my books. lol lol lol

***The most interesting thing about the dream is that the person who took over my library and asked me to put all my books away so she could create a “tech library” in my office library is a famous Haitian novelist, and I love her work too. lol

My latest poem, “The Chaos We Breathe,” draws inspiration from Franketienne’s seminal novel ‘Dezafi,’ first published in Kreyol in 1975, marking it as the first Haitian Kreyol novel. The poem reflects more of Franketienne’s ideas and worldview than my own, enriched through the use of Artificial Intelligence for refinement. I hope you enjoy reading it. The poem is a lamentation on the desperate human condition depicted in Haiti within the novel’s setting. Let me know what you think.

By the way, my inspiration arises from a close reading of the novel as part of an essay I’m writing on the concept of zombification and its moral and ethical implications for society, particularly in relation to the sacredness of life, human rights and agency, and the pursuit of the common good and human flourishing in the world.

“The Chaos We Breathe”

In our midst, love and death lie tangled in sheets,
bones brittle from (our) wounds unseen.
At the crossroads, we wander lost,
our shadows devoured by ancient dark.
Fate bends the road beneath our feet—
where does it lead?
where lies our hope?
who will brave the fire to bring us back to light?
We gather memories like fragile glass, while dreams unravel in the wind.

We whisper to the wind, but it does not reply.
Our words scatter like leaves in the forest.
No hands reach to lift us nor save us from the chaos.
Who hears the weight of our silence?
Who reads the silence trembling beneath our breath?
Who will bleed with hope to break our binding chains?
Our dreams pile like dust in forgotten corners of the mind.

We touch yet love feels like a distant echo.
Anger burns between us, yet our hands still heal.
Under the ruthless sun, we wilt—
lips cracked, hunger gnawing,
They stole our food before it meets our tongues.
Though the heavens break with grief, the earth denies our pain.
We toil until our spines bend, yet no hands reach for ours.

They stitch our lips closed, silence thick as stone.
Our words choke in our throats, swallowed before our tongue can free them.
A wicked wind rises, devouring our voices and memories.
The earth drinks the blood of our infants, our youth, our elders—never quenched, always craving.
Rivers run red with slaughtered beasts.
We run after dreams that dissolve in air, while hope crumbles into the dust of yesterday.
Still, we learn to forget.
Still, we learn to remember.
Still, we learn to walk as one.
Still, we learn to love.

As I was getting ready for work this morning and listening to an Easter message on YouTube, I heard a very famous evangelical Christian pastor said “If you don’t believe in Jesus, you don’t believe in God.” This is in fact a theologically-loaded statement.

To be fair, his audience was Christian, but I would argue this is an irresponsible theological statement. Let me explain my reasons:

First of all, there are many religious traditions outside of Christianity that profess the belief in God, including Judaism, Islam, Yoruba religion, Vodou, Hinduism, etc. Yet they do not believe in Jesus as divine or God. Some do not equate the belief in Jesus with the belief in God. Othe faith traditions do not interpret this matter as a theological necessity or imperative, that is, to believe both in God and Jesus correspondingly as if these two entities are the same, share the same nature, and have equal power.

Secondly, the conception of God in these various traditions may vary. Thirdly, God is not the property of a particular religious system. Fourthly, even the so-called Abrahamaic faiths (Judaism, Christianity, Islam) espouse different conceptions of God that are often contradictory. Finally, while the Christian tradition views God as a Trinity and proclaims that God exists in three eternal persons as Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit, other traditions that do not affirm the Christian trinitarian doctrine do not necessarily translate into a disbelief in God.

However, in the “Christian Orthodox tradition,” as a theological position and confession, it is a theological necessity to believe both in Jesus and God. It’s theologically unthinkable to deny Jesus as divine and God’s Messiah and profess the trinitarian God. Christians believe that belief in Jesus as divine is necessary for salvation and the forgiveness of sin.

On the other hand, from a non-Christian theistic framework and when considering non-Christian (religious) traditions, the “disbelief” in Jesus and the belief in God is not a religious transgression nor is it an act of theological agnosticism/atheism.

Happy Wednesday, Good People!

I am back and reactivated my social media accounts. Hopefully, my accounts won’t be hijacked and photoshopped again 😔

Let me share some recent updates!

In addition to other medical complications, my seasonal allergies have gotten out of hand this time and I continue to suffer breathing problems in this city. This is been going on for three weeks now. Doc (the allergist) puts me back on meds. (I may have to take allergy injection for 16 weeks/four months. Yes, it is that severe on me) Frankly, no one likes to be dependent on meds to function normally. I’m allergic to everything in the world, including carpet, dust, pollen, trees, leaves, grass, even myself 😊

I was invited as a guest speaker and author to the Symposium to commemorate Haiti’s literary GIANT Frankétienne. Unfortunately, I had to cancel my flight. I actually wrote a good paper on “ Dézafi” for the event.😊

Some pleasant news/updates:

1. Last week, I received the “Teacher of the Year”Award from San Jacinto College. Thank you, San Jac community, especially our students!!!
2. I received a travel research grant to conduct research for a book project from the University of Florida (UF) Center for Latin American and Caribbean Studies. I wll be in Gainesville, Florida this summer. Go #Gators 🐊 ☀️
3. My paper proposal for the joint annual meeting of the American Academy of Religion (AAR) and Society of Biblical Literature (SBL) was accepted. If the good Lord allows it, I will be in Boston in November.
4. Finally, I was able to do the edits and substantially trimmed down my manuscript on Jean Price-Mars, my biography on Price-Mars with Vanderbilt University Press. The original manuscript was 589 pages and I reduced it to 398 pages with endnotes excluding the 22-page biography. You should be proud of me 😊

I resubmitted the revised manuscript to the amazing VUP editorial team. I’ll wait for their feedback to move forward to the next step. Let me tell you, I have a big sense of relief now 😅

By the way, I will be teaching an 8-week Humanities course this summer with a focus on the concept of “The Good Life.” We will be interacting with sources from five disciplines, including classical philosophy, psychology, anthropology, religion, and music to explore what they say about “The Good Life” and its relationship to the “Happy Life.”

This is an undergraduate course.

**I have already written the first draft of the syllabus, but I welcome reading recommendations on the concept.

That’s all I had to share for today. Hope you have a pleasant Wednesday!