“I Chose You Over Forever”

“I Chose You Over Forever”

I traded eternity for your presence.
Loving you became an act of rebellion,
rewriting every law I knew
costing me everything I had
bending the universe against me.

I carved two hearts into the sun
so the world would know our love exists.
I sailed a hundred thousand miles
through warring storms and thunder
just to find you,
just to bring you home.

I traveled backward through time,
changing myself to return
to the first steps we ever took together,
to know what you were thinking,
to relive our first kiss
exactly as it fell.

I think of nothing at all
so I can be free to think only of you.
I stayed perfectly still
to quiet the anxiety in your heart.
I tasted the sweetness of your soul
inside a dream,
just to be sure
you would be alright.

“Letters for the Hidden Face”

“Letters for the Hidden Face”

As a bee searches for nectar,
she trusts the flower that nourishes her.
As a parrot learns the language of humans,
she risks error,
the fragment of sound:
mispronunciation,
misunderstanding,
the ache of being heard imperfectly.

I search for you
in hidden places,
not because I do not desire safety,
but because love has taught me risk—
how to loosen my grip on comfort,
how to call surrender devotion,
how to rename control as connection.

I give myself away
in small poetic gestures,
sacred ways
to hold you once more,
to touch your face,
If only for a moment
you refuse to name.

Why do you keep hiding your face from me,
when you know this love,
though imperfect,
is honest,
and stands naked before your eyes,
asking only to be seen?

You choose secrecy.
I make my love known.
You choose silence.
I answer with poetry.
You love in whispers
and call it protection.
I write you love letters
and risk the world
knowing my name through yours.

You let this love burn inside me
without asking
how much it hurts—
how this passion unravels me,
how heavily it weighs,
how much of myself
it consumes.

Like a house set ablaze
from the entrance room,
like a burning bush
that devours my flesh.

It suffocates my breath,
drains my ability
to love anew,
to write the poems
that would keep you
living.

“Light That Carries Us”

“Light That Carries Us”

Do you remember the first time I saw you?
When you looked at me,
I felt it then—
my life had begun.

This first gaze became the light that carries us,
a symbol of the love that remains and thrives.
It whispers across time,
a love that knows the way,
a quiet strength in times of trouble.

That single feeling
carried me forward,
sustaining a lifetime of love.

Even when life’s challenges
reshaped the road we walked,
your faithful love
remained my anchor.

Though we could not live
the love we imagined,
nor reach the future we once dreamed,
We hold the memories we created:
gentle, enduring,
a lifetime in one gaze.

They still inspire hope,
still awaken joy,
whispering that one day
true love will find us again,
together,
as a couple.

“Love’s Quiet Language”

“Love’s Quiet Language”

She watches him from a distance,
tracking his storylines, moment by moment.
She admires how deeply he feels,
loves with unrelenting passion,
shows his vulnerability.
She respects his courage,
his consistency.

He reaches out
through lyrics,
through poetic gestures,
trying to rekindle love.
Yet she avoids him,
refuses direct communication.

They are still connected,
emotionally entwined,
yet unwilling
to fully engage.

She wants to be seen.
He wants to be seen.
Both hold back,
protecting themselves.

They express their feelings,
without true vulnerability,
avoiding the risks of rejection
and the honesty that love requires.

But love cannot survive in hiding.
It cannot remain invisible.

We have one life to live.
Love asks to be named.

“Love Notes Scattered, Heart Unseen”

“Love Notes Scattered, Heart Unseen”

I wish you would take time to learn
the way I want to be loved,
the way love reaches me and stays.

It pains me that the letters I wrote you
lie scattered through the house,
my love notes left ungathered,
never cradled in a treasure box.

It shatters me to hear
the most beautiful love songs alone,
their lyrics unrecognized by you,
even as they steady my breath
and quiet my restless heart.

I brought you flowers,
love folded into a thousand roses.
You breathed in their scent
but left the envelope unsealed.

I chose the perfect dress for you
for Valentine’s Day,
the moment when two hearts
renew their promise.
Your hands rested on it
without care,
without fire.

If loving you means beginning again,
as if it were the first day,
I will relearn romance,
and, should my love not reach you,
I will surrender to yours,
tracing the path of desire.

And if this love is not yet strong enough
to hold your smile,
then teach me, precisely,
the window into your soul.

“Sheets Wet with Absence”

“Sheets Wet with Absence”

I do not grieve because love fails.
Your love carries my healing, my restoration.
I do not miss you for want of love;
I miss you because your love is absent from my life.
I do not cry for love lost;
I wet my sheets at night for your absence.

There was a time I believed loving you was enough.
There was a season when our passion was inseparable.
There was an era when our souls merged as one.
If it is gone now,
it is because our love could not withstand the trials of life.

I do not blame you for leaving.
I grieve that you did not believe my love was enough,
that I could complete your life.
I mourn what is lost and cannot be repaired.
And yet…
if it was once enough to love each other,
it is now enough to love again,
to forgive,
and to begin anew.

“Canada’s Moral Optimism and the Limits of Humane Global Leadership: Reflections on Mark Carney”

“Canada’s Moral Optimism and the Limits of Humane Global Leadership: Reflections on Mark Carney”

Prime Minister Mark Carney’s unapologetic speech at Davos in Norway revealed a leader fluent in transnational and global discourse, attentive to the anxieties and asymmetries shaping life in both the Global South and the Global North. He rightly diagnosed the global order as fractured, most notably the U.S.-led model, which he portrayed as not merely strained but structurally broken and perhaps beyond meaningful repair.

Yet Carney’s optimism rests on a familiar paradox. While he called for a more humane and empathetic global order and underscored Canada’s moral responsibility to help craft it alongside the League of Nations, his framework ultimately reinscribes Western authority as the primary steward of global governance. His rhetoric gestures toward anti-imperial critique, but only in its softer form—one that critiques excesses while leaving intact the West’s presumed right to rule.

The speech thus reflects the enduring tension within liberal internationalism: a desire to reform global power without fundamentally redistributing it. Canadians may take pride in Carney’s eloquence and ethical posture, but they should also interrogate the limits of a vision that seeks to humanize empire rather than move beyond it.

If I were Canadian, I would share in that pride, particularly because of Carney’s emphasis on moral leadership, ethical diplomacy, and constructive foreign policies aimed at advancing the common good and human flourishing across the world. Yet I remain deeply grateful to my Haitian ancestors, who recognized far earlier the dangers of imperialism and Western global hegemony in the nineteenth century. Their insight remains instructive today. The Haitian Revolution and the enduring meaning of 1804 still offers lessons the world has yet to fully learn.

In continuity with W. E. B. Du Bois’s seminal claim at the turn of the twentieth century that race would constitute the central problem of modernity, the most consequential impediment to global human flourishing in the present moment is the rearticulation of imperial power. This contemporary imperial formation operates through an intensified nationalism and is institutionalized by the strategic surveillance, regulation, and disciplining of nations in the Global South. Any vision of humane global leadership and moral progress that fails to reckon with the significance and global meaning of the Haitian Revolution remains, at best, incomplete.

“The Eye That Sees You”

“The Eye That Sees You”

He brought you ten thousand roses to rekindle love in your pain,
But they were not your favorite colors, nor your cherished scent.
I bring you an everlasting rose:
The shape, style, and the color of your heart.

The eye with which you see him
is not the eye with which he sees you.
I gaze at you with tender affection,
deep devotion
until you peer deep into my soul.

You crave attention, presence,
He offers none.
I come to make you whole.

He paints a newness,
cloaked in deception,
a fragile illusion
That cannot withstand the trials of a thorned heart.
What you need is to be “chosen forever,”
beyond mere recognition.

I offer adventures unforgettable,
Handwritten love notes that linger,
A bouquet of wildflowers arranged to your taste—
For you are my all
Wanted above all else in this world.

“Rupture: I Am the One Who Mourns”

“Rupture: I Am the One Who Mourns”

I lose sleep thinking of you,
searching for words strong enough to endure,
writing verses meant to awaken your soul
beautiful enough to bring you back.

I studied the art of love and loving,
searched for the most luminous poems ever written,
hoping to perfect my craft,
hoping, still, to win you back.

All this
for a single smile from you,
even if it must travel through the wind.
All this
so you might think of me again,
so you might see me again.

I borrowed words from other poets
so memory would return your gaze to me.
I wore their lines as my own,
as if my imagination had deserted me
as if love itself had driven me wild.

On Monday, I sent you my first borrowed
breath:
I would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment,”
so you might dream of us.
I am still in love with you.

The next day, I leaned on Frost
and whispered:
Love at the lips was touch as sweet as I could bear,”
so you would know,
quietly, seriously
that I am still in love with you.

I know our love moves slowly,
but when it rests, it rests for a long time.
Our silence became poetry,
because our hearts once spoke
to one another in secret.

Yet your disregard for my heartache,
the pain you caused,
taught me the frailty of your love—
that your passion for me
was never strong enough

to rekindle desire.

Your ignorance of my devotion,
of my silent prayers to the Divine,
of my daily tears and whispered laments,
led me to understand
that you never learned
how to love me
with care, with reverence, with respect.

And finally, your silence
made one truth unmistakable:
I am the only one mourning
the departure of a love
that was once beautiful,
once eternal,
the rupture of a bond
I believed was unbreakable.
I am the only one mourning.