From

I’m  from literature, lyrics and lullabies,

from fork decorated peanut butter cookies

and grandma’s sweet potato pie.

I’m  from weeping willows

whose trunks were a resting place in a game of tag,

from cheerleading practice,

little league football

and lunch in a brown paper bag.

I am from family first, and the decision to be more,

I am the opportunity that opened closed doors.

I’m from an older brother who is my best friend, and memories of family road trips

that seemed to never end.

I am from wood paneled walls that held framed images to celebrate my story,

all of the triumphs, milestones, and glory.

I’m from an aunt who died tragically and way too young,

who I miss and wish she were here to see,

her niece develop into the woman that I know she wanted me to be.

I’m from a mother who made the great migration solo at age 17,

and from a father who had the courage to march with a King.

I am from the largest continent, although I have never been.

I’m from a city best known for it’s sin.

I’m from lakes, the Great ones,

and Americas, the North one.

I am from a shinning sphere in a spiral collection of worlds,

the blue one,

doing it’s own little twirl.

© LaRonda Moore

He Listens (Chapter 1)

SERIES SUMMARY:  Kayla is on a quest to move beyond the hurt of her past as she realizes the impact that hurt has on her present and potential future. This is a modern tale of love that accounts the complexities of blending the lives of two thirty-somethings and all of their respective baggage.   Read to see if Kayla will finally share her secret, embrace something new, and most importantly exercise her faith.


The congestion of Jefferson Avenue has put a total damper on her commute home.  And although it is the end of yet another work week, she isn’t accompanying her coworkers to the lounge, nah – happy hour isn’t her thing.  Nor is she anxiously awaiting the arrival of her significant other, because despite her Mother’s fears and Grandmother’s disapproval, Kayla is thirty-something, single, and truly okay with it. I mean, don’t get me wrong, everyone wants someone to share their life with, or at least a warm body in their bed, but the men she meets are typical.  They are either too thugged out or too uptight.  She often finds herself wondering, “Where is the in-between man, for the women who has grown out of her bad boy phase?”  You know the man who has both a little edge and a legal paying job.  If he does exist, she hasn’t met him yet.

So for now, Kayla is single but that status doesn’t make her stationary.  She travels a lot for work, will drive to Chicago on a dime for that Magnificent Mile, attends every noteworthy concert on the scene, and hasn’t eaten a meal at home since she moved in.  As she walks down the narrow hallway to her place, balancing an over-sized Louis Vuitton, the remains of her takeout lunch, a tablet, and her mail, the realization that her house is not a home becomes very clear with every scream from the feuding two in B3, and the not so appetizing ethnic aroma lingering under the door of B4.  Her house is an overpriced, two-bedroom loft nestled in the heart of the Motor City, which Kayla proudly calls “Little Africa”.  She feels justified in coining this nickname because she is one of D Town’s finest.  And while most people of her grooming have long fled to the comforts of suburbia, Kayla vows to never leave.

See, Detroit, affectionately referred to as “The D” by the natives, is a peculiar place to live.  Because while it has a rich history and a beautiful landscape, it is best known for violence, a neglected exterior, poor public education, and a corrupt administration.  Yet and still, the heart of this city beats strong.  Most know it as the birthplace of the automobile and therefore the home of the Big Three.  And everyone knows how it revolutionized the music industry with countless legendary artists.  However, if you’ve never been, then you’ll never know about the mansions in Indian Village, or the Island that sits in between two nations, or the world-class museum district.  See, Detroit has jewels but they can’t shine.  Instead bad press consumes it with isolated incidents of ignorance.  Thus it stands in its own darkness, in the shadow of its heyday, waiting, contemplating, a change and rebirth that is long overdue.  Kayla believes in this city and because she does, she stays.  Yeah, Detroit is home.

To be continued…

© LaRonda Moore

*** He Listens Series Homepage

Shut Eye

In color I dream;

purple pastures of bedazzled fuchsia,

sprinkled dust glistens,

the chimerical meets reality,

while an owl tells timelessly,

and I control the plot.

There is something unordinary about this air,

it transport me where,

platinum skies release emerald teardrops.

On a quest to find the bottom in search of gold I run,

distant, by way of violet sun.

Hanging over the hilltop, I can see my arched array.

So I sail over orange grass fertilized from festive flowers,

and on tranquil sapphire breezes,

I kiss nature on the check, and lay hot in January’s snow.

I am chasing rainbows,

trying to make my flight

courtesy

of three kites.

© LaRonda Moore

Welcome Reader

It took me a long time to realize that the only way I will ever reach my height is to never know how high I can go.  Invisible shackles oppress us, I search for the peace in contentment to liberate me.  And although they say that the best things in life are free, even freedom has a cost.

The posts on this blog are a reflection of my price…an extension of my journey.  Each word, line, stanza, story, and revelation is worth a different amount. And while experience has taught me a lot along the way, my debt isn’t paid.  I have a lot more living, loving, and learning to do.  You, just like me, have your own pilgrimage to make and your own price to pay. Let the works and words within this portfolio therefore act as therapy. They mean exactly what you need them to.  With that being said, I pray that my words speak to you, and more importantly, evoke thought.

So, if you have already arrived at your destination, your debt is paid, and you are foot loose and fancy free – congratulations and enjoy.  But if you haven’t, good luck.  Here’s a care package for your travels. 

~LaRonda Moore~