When I would be trying to tell my dad something, especially when I was excited, it would come out as, “Dad-dad-dad.” It is a practice that started when I was little, and it still continues to present.

This poem was originally composed in July 2021 in Columbus, Ohio.

Depicting the gaze between the Son and His mother.

From
From
From
From
From

Regret before God is not repentance.
Regret is not holy.
Repentance is a gift.

Sometimes, I find this space between the white noise of a window seat, but recently it has been in the cacophony of clanking dishes.

I used to immensely dislike the poetry section of every English class throughout my school days, yet now so often when I sit down to write it’s poetry that comes out.

Countless journals have hosted first entries dedicated to this desire, yet I have had a hesitation — even to just call myself a writer.