A Walk

Photo Credit : Gina Mikel

               Photo Credit : Gina Mikel

We decided to walk.  It wasn’t far.

I attempted conversation.  My efforts were not matched.

We walked in silence.

The sun shone, warmth on my skin.  Softened by the breeze.

A perfect day.

Silence, but for the leaves.

I removed my glasses.

From realism to impressionism in a breath.

Royal Poinciana, baby mangoes and palms.

Gingerbread houses.

Sweet red flowers we licked when we were young.


Leaves rolled past my feet.

We walked.

I saw my house.  Like the one in Haiti.

Arch after arch, after arch…

Wrought iron and rocking chairs, on the porch.

There I was.  Rocking.

In a white cotton dress.

Deep inhalations, linseed oil and paint.

Cooking.  Someone was cooking. I was cooking.

The sound of drums and laughter.

Life. A life well lived.

Beneath me was life, and I was happy.

Quietly experiencing joy from the balcony above.


He opened his long arms wide as we walked.

He saw a friend.

We spoke.

Bubble burst.

Glasses firmly in place.


S. Conde






What we love with passion undoes us. This is known.

So in choosing love we accept death.

Embrace it.  Know that it comes regardless.

Some claim to love life, yet simply fear death.

The inevitable.

They straddle the sidelines.  Forever safe.

From a comfortable distance.  And they live.  They exist.

But what life is this?

Is it better to risk all and love with passion?

…or quietly from the womb like cocoon of a reclining chair?


S. Conde




Reversing Polarities

I went to speak with her last night.

A perfect night.

A warm and windy night.

I approached the steps of her home.

There she moved, in front of me.

Divine.  Glorious. Dancing.

Naked and wild under the new moon.

I smiled.  She noticed.

I approached lovingly.


She tickled my feet with cool fingers.

Questioning where I’d been.

Laughter was my only reply.

She knows me.

I asked her to bathe me. To wash away my fears.

She agreed, in her way, and kissed me.

Slowly at first, as was my desire.

Our passion grew in perfect rhythm.

One with the other.

She blessed me with wave after wave of salty water.

Cleansing me of worry.

With each swell my burden dissipated.


As I relaxed, so did she.

Receding.  Soft, rolling undulations.

Allowing me to finish the process myself.


Photo by Jaime Ferreyros

“Day Of The Mermaid”                                           Photo by Jaime Ferreyros



S. Conde

The wheels of the soul go round and round…

There I sat.

Back erect, verbalizing the sounds.

Wondering if the ecstasy would return.

…so long ago and far away…

Slowly slipping into the familiar pattern.

Falling into the rhythm, of each syllable.

The recognizable cadence of an old friend.

Working my way up.

Grounding, releasing, willing.

Loving, speaking, visualizing.

Ethereal realms abound.

Effortless and translucent, the colors return.

Red to orange, orange to yellow.

Green to blue, blue to purple.


Alive and grateful.  I am.

Rerouting the wiring.

My hands and feet hum with electricity.

Smiling at the bee buzzing happily in my throat.

Now, I am home.


S. Conde

A Lack Of Vision

Moved to silence by my eyes.

Engulfed in the raucous visual.

External images, human interaction, social activity…

A buzz in my head.  White noise.

Detached from the me, the I Am.

Split in two.

Longing.  A quiet craving, it comes.

Eyes wide shut look within;

and follow the silver tether home.




S. Conde






Will Power

When I was a girl, I knew an old woman.

She had a magic.

A way of knowing.

The strength of a person’s will.

She was quiet.  She watched.  She listened.  She smiled.

Privately, she would give me summation.

Weak willed.  Strong willed.  Willful.  With or without will power.

I would like to say she didn’t judge.  It sounds nicer.  But she did.

She didn’t dismiss the weak of will, but she did not trust them.

They had not the power to assert sheer force of will in their own lives.

How would they behave in hers?

Without honor.

I loved her but thought this mean spirited.

I told her so.

I told her everything.

“I ain’t scared a you.”

She loved to hear me say that.

It was our joke.

She adored me.

She trained me.

“The worst thing you can do to a child is break their will.”

She was right.  Of course.

Once stolen, no one can give it back to you.

Build yours again.

Have courage.

Be who you are.

Or better still…

Be who you want to be.


Manipura : Chakra Healing

Activate Your Manipura Chakra : Activate Your Will


S. Conde






An Angel

On this day I was given a gift.

A gift born of love.

Unwrapped and crying.

The color of peaches and cream. Twenty four inches long.


Today, you stand tall.  A man.

Proud, handsome, and strong.  Kind, loving, and full of laughter.  Full of life.

My darling, my Angel, my sunshine-y boy.

You have so much to give.  So much to share.

You will find your way.  Make your path.  Create your world.

You are the knight flying through the air.  Mind, body and spirit united.

You will succeed.

You are loved. You are love.

You fill my heart with joy.

I love you now, then and forever.

Happy Birthday my son.

You make life better.



S. Conde (Mama / Momo)