I was reborn a third time to the sound of my name humming haikus in heaven’s mouth.
ABERJHANIUnless you are here: this garden refuses to exist. Pink dragonflies fall from the air and become scorpions scratching blood out of rocks.
More Aberjhani Quotes
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And a hunger for meaning beyond the flavors that enter and exit the physical body. A person might even be described as a self-contained multiverse.
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Your pain is a school unto itself–– and your joy a lovely temple.
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In the days when hyenas of hate suckle the babes of men, and jackals of hypocrisy pimp their mothers’ broken hearts, may children not look to demons of ignorance for hope.
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In honor of Oprah Winfrey: Even greater than the ability to inspire others with hope is the power to motivate them to give as much to the lives of others as they would give to their own
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You were born a child of light’s wonderful secret— you return to the beauty you have always been.
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Even when muddy your wings sparkle bright wonders that heal broken worlds.
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The rainbows that dangle upon this mist: shatter. Like the smile of a child separated from his mother’s milk for the very first time.from poem Blood and Blossoms
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Unless you are here: this garden refuses to exist. Pink dragonflies fall from the air and become scorpions scratching blood out of rocks.
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You are the hybrids of golden worlds and ages splendidly conceived.
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The fact that an African American sits in the White House at the helm of government in the United States of America on this 150th anniversary of Abraham Lincoln’s
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Millions of tears have fallen for black sons, brothers, lovers, and friends whose assailants took or maimed their lives and then simply went on their way.
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As a poet and to accept the fact that life had never given me any choice in the matter. And then I had to discover exactly what that meant.
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The thorn is a bridge spanning the muddy depths of agony and sorrow so that one may on the other side dance to the drums of the rose of joy.
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Horror tore this world asunder. While inside the bleeding smoke and beyond the shredded weeping flesh we memorized tales of infinite good. -from The History Lesson
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The reality of a serious writer is a reality of many voices, some of them belonging to the writer, some of them belonging to the world of readers at large.
ABERJHANI