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The Fuel

The Gift

~Inspired by Gloria Hemingway from the family memoir Strange Tribe by John Hemingway~


No matter what the world labels me,

I will prevail.

However much people hate me,

I will prevail.

You see, I have a gift.

I can turn sorrows into similes,

I can transform madness into metaphors.

If she is a wench, I turn her into a warrior.


No matter how much I cry,

I will keep going.

However much I want to die,

I will keep going.

To keep living, bears my womb with joy.

I find small moments of love,

In the inconspicuous places.

If triggers of trauma comes, I smile and wave them goodbye.


I have this gift to change the sadness inside of me,

into sweet revelry.

The once chaotic turmoil full of black tar,

into a peaceful moment of mercy.

I have this gift inside of me,

To turn the midnight oil of terrors and anxiety,

into a masterpiece.

I have this gift to change the bad into whole.


Perhaps it is an easy task for some people,

but people I know find it hard to believe,

how a small moment of hope

can be found in the midst of darkness.

How life can be hopeful in faith,

despite the mourning and injustice.

I have this gift you see, and I know I'm not alone.

I am gifted in the many ways the world cannot see.


I am the gift.


and the gift is in me.



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O How I wish You Could Hear Me, Dear Gloria.

O how I wish you could hear me, Dear Gloria. Thy search for wholeness were through dungeons that you travailed much and was tired until vice came to devour. Vanity, extravaganza of sex and lust came to lure you away from your truth. Your heart searched for wholeness that was simply inside the womb of your Mother and Father, who were both dumbfounded by your beauty and need for grace and affection. I wish you could hear me, Dear, and knew how much we all loved you.


O how I wish you could hear me, Dear Gloria. You were the world to this universe and your heart was worthy and enough. You needed not search nowhere, anywhere, always, for the worth and wholesome soul you searched for. Perhaps money was the answer, but we all knew it fleeted you like a bastard without a cause. If you were here, you would have brought dead souls to life. You were a legend and your death on the floor in Miami brought no justice to us, the fans. We wanted more of you.


O how I wish you could hear me, Dear Gloria. Your sense of wonder was so vast that the galaxy bursts within you. In explosion, you were the andromeda and the supernova. You were you, and no one else could be. You, Gloria or Gregory, were excelsis searching for deo, and you were in the game before you ended in paralysis from awe of your magnanimous thirst for adventure. You, were you, and no one else could be.


O how I wish you could hear me, Dear Gloria. It was okay. You will be found. You were true to yourself and we needed to hear you, but your shouts were uncontained that we heard rumbling of the mountains of your desires, not the grounded sanity you truly should sought for. I wish you could hear me, Dear Gloria, I wish you could hear how I loved you, Greg or Gloria or Magnificent Creature. You were the unicorn of your dreams, and you wanted so much that all couldn't have been at one place at one time.


O how I wish you could hear me, Dear Gloria. I loved you. Never would die. You were and will still be valued, and you will be remembered.




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