Prolific Writer

I was on Facebook perusing around, putting in key words like “Poetry” to locate the perfect places to “share” my Identity Crisis Poem.

Dreams Deferred

I began to run across words that hit me like flash cards before a big test. Before my eyes I traveled back in time and it brought tears to my eyes to reconnect with dreams deferred.

When I believed I was a writer, I aspired to discover language, to enhance communication, to live in a liberty that only a pen knows when it leaks its soul onto paper leaves.

I am coming back to reality, vertigo-ed by gravity in awe that I have put myself in a place that I have wished to remain inexperienced; dreams deferred.

I have only been thirty for a few months but its slapping the hell out of me. I promised myself in my youth never to take a job that would compromise my parenting, and never to live a life that would raise a “what if” question.


We commit to fear so well, that even christians misrepresent themselves as walking in love. We commit to fear so well that our dreams and visions that are attainable become positive talk among brethren who see something in you that you have written off as a hobby. We ignore our genius because it’s often uncomfortable and impractical.

I wrote Identity Crisis, Identity Christ Is: A Journey to Love out of complete obedience, even when someone read it and thought it was so bad they wouldn’t give me constructive criticism.

Needless to say, negativity gets plucked out of my life without “warning to remove” stickers placed on them. Its like God pulls an Elijah, only I have no clue where on earth they are. I wrote it because I did not question whether I what accountable to the goal, but I was insecure the entire way.

The Shadow of Insecurity

I have never known me to be insecure, in fact I loathe the word and the meaning. There will be those who will dilute your misfortune with comparison of their own, who will find better stories within themselves whether true or fiction, but they did not write my story, one of Resurrection.

I am realizing that in this letter to myself, I have kept my own promise, to never live a “what if” life. My book, my poetry, are all penetrable works that I can not explain. I write from an intangible place, and it will always be uncomfortable much like the Identity Crisis Poem. I will never desire fame though I send angels out to bring fortune back to me. I am amazed that in my dreams, I became a writer, and when I was awakened from sleep, my writing persists.

It is the will to be what I have always known, and the relentlessness to tell no that “NOthing” matters. My winning, is the ability to remember unconsciously the goals I have set, and ignore fearful resistance from within; the pursuit and saturation of love, relieves fear of its duties.

I write. I love writing. I was never good in english because I hate the laws of grammar so I became a poet; one rebellious of laws, by my summation. I honestly thought I would write my first memoir at forty. I wanted to take writing classes and become distinguished.

With my reasoning my dreams would still be deferred like my student loans. The only hope for me is a sensitivity to obey a voice inside; dwelling within the Kingdom where holy is nestled.

It took me months to write like me again, to find that poet within and to speak despite the war. All this to say that I wanted to be a full-time writer and people told me that I was dreaming.

They insisted that there was no money and certainly no wisdom in my wishes; a timely rhyme would leave cuss words and quick witt-ers in stitches.

I am back, fully myself again; wholly me, myself again. I am so beautiful to me inside, and to be fully me is the only way to be alive! I will take those writing classes, and be your guest speaker for my published books. I will be who I am and God will bless it. The vision was written before I finally got the message.

I am reminded of the flash before my eyes that made me see my dream deferred. Whatsoever fear, torment, or contention will never be worth the life of my vision.


I salute those who choose to believe in an untapped source; extraordinary supernatural currency that has complete expectation to win. In this world there is time to fail and to rise, but I want to encourage you that whatever season you have entered in, there is grace for the ride. You can do the unthinkable, just don’t tell anyone.

You can BE. Extraordinary just don’t say it yourself, allow others to identify that in you. Otherwise they won’t like you for being confident. You can’t out-give God but if you try, I promise you’ll have in overflow while others lack. You’ll be Joseph, and they will be his brothers, and your ability to be merciful is what will make you respected as King.

I encourage you to be undignified, walking in integrity, unapologetically diligent in your vision and your dreams will come true. Your destiny is YOUR choice, your vision is your voice and opinions are often pressured to be received by those who are blind. What will you do with a source (GOD) that does not operate in the limitation of time?

BE. Extraordinary!

Ressurrection Graves

About Ressurrection

Ressurrection Graves is a Child Sexual Abuse Grooming Expert and H.E.A.L.E.R. (Healer, Educator, Activist, Life Skills Expert, Empowerment Speaker, Relationship Mentor) Her website reaches readership in 188 countries. She is available for national speaking engagements, radio and television interviews. She can be reached at: 202.717.7377 or send your request to: ressurrection dot wordpress at yahoo dot com or comment on
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