Why do you write military related poetry?

Because military poetry exists in the spaces between memory and silence. It carries what is difficult to say plainly service, duty, loss, resilience, identity and the moments that linger long after the uniform is folded away. I write military poetry to honour lived experience, both spoken and unspoken. These are real stories and memories relayed to me in moments that I have immense gratitude for. Some are shaped by service itself; others are shaped by proximity to it the families, the waiting, the aftermath. What connects them is the  attention to detail, to feeling, and to the human cost behind abstract words like sacrifice and honour. Military poetry allows room for complexity. It doesn’t ask for experiences to be neat or heroic. It allows contradiction, grief, pride, and silence to all co-exist on the same page. That space matters. Poetry is also a form of healing. Writing offers a way to approach experiences that may feel too heavy, fragmented, or unresolved to confront directly. Through metaphor, rhythm, and imagery, emotions can surface safely without the pressure of explanation or conclusion.

For many connected to military life, healing is not linear. Poetry reflects that truth. A poem can pause, circle back, or leave questions unanswered. In doing so, it validates the process rather than forcing closure. Sometimes the act of naming a feeling is enough. Sometimes silence on the page is part of the work. This kind of writing is not about fixing. It is about making space for reflection, acknowledgement, and breath. Over time, that space can become a place of understanding and, quietly, of healing. The very first military poem I wrote was inspired by one person who carried many identities at once a warrior, a soldier, a father, a husband a brother, a son. What moved me was not only the uniform or the service, but the humanity behind it. The way strength and tenderness and demons co-existed side by side. That poem was my first attempt to hold all of those truths in a single space.

It taught me that military poetry is not only about conflict or command. It is about devotion and the quiet promises made every day. That first poem became the foundation for everything I have written since, shaping how I approach voice, respect, and care on the page.
This work is not about spectacle or best sellers and to be honest it is not about me. If im totally honest it happened by chance. A conversation by chance and a hard story shared. So for me It is about remembrance, witness, and respect for those who served, and for those who carry these memories, those who shared them and those who trusted me when words didn't existed for them. 
Hope that answers the question.

Why I Write?

I often ask myself this question, and the only answer I can give is simple: I write because I care deeply about the stories that matter to me  mental health, veterans, and the human experience. Writing is how I make sense of the world. When life feels confusing, overwhelming, or unexplainable, I turn to poetry or prose to process, reflect, and find meaning. Through words, I uncover the truths I’m searching for.

There are moments when words won’t come. When that happens, I step away, trusting that they’ll return. And return they do sometimes sparked by a fleeting thought, a fragment of conversation, or an everyday moment. Writing is never easy. Life, family, and work demand their share of time, making the act of writing a balancing act. But then, there are rare moments when everything aligns, and the words flow effortlessly, as if they are writing themselves.

My first book of poetry is a reflection of both my personal journey and my professional life. It feels like two halves of a whole. The first half explores my childhood growing up in a military family, living in Army Married Quarters, and forming bonds that endure to this day. In this section, I also honor the veterans I’ve worked with, giving voice to their stories, stories often too complex to fully explain but no less important.

The second half turns to my professional life in Addiction Services, paying tribute to the people I’ve been fortunate enough to support on their paths to recovery. These poems aim to give voice to those struggling with addiction, offering insight and empathy to those who may not fully understand their journey. I am especially eager to connect with fellow military members and their families, to hear their stories, share experiences, and create something meaningful together.

Writing, for me, is both a mirror and a bridge a way to reflect, understand, and connect. It is how I make sense of life, and how I hope to touch the lives of others.

Talent : What Is It?

Yesterday, someone said to me, “Wow, you are talented.” And it made me stop and think: what does it really mean to be talented?

At first, I thought of talent as having a natural aptitude for something but then I wondered, doesn’t everyone have a natural aptitude for something? Whether it’s writing, art, running, or something else entirely, we all have gifts just in different forms.

I look at marathon runners and think, Wow, being able to run 26 miles is a talent. I look at artists and think, I can’t even draw a straight line. Yet the truth is, we often struggle to see what others see in us. Our self-view can be limited or harsh, and sometimes that makes us uncomfortable.

The lesson I’ve learned is this: we need to pay attention to our own talents and stop overthinking the label “talent” itself. Words can get lost in translation what one person calls talent, another might take for granted.

So here’s what I take away: accept how others see you. On the days when words won’t come, or your creativity feels stuck, remember that someone else sees more in you than you might see in yourself. Writing, like any gift, is valuable whether it flows naturally or takes effort. Treasure it, nurture it, and don’t get caught up in judging it. Who decides what’s “great” anyway? Often, our harshest critic is ourselves. Give yourself a break. Don’t force it. Trust your talent. Everything else will follow naturally.

That’s my rambling for today let me know what you think.

Lazy Days

It’s been a bit of a mad weekend, but also a lazy one and honestly, sometimes that’s exactly what you need. There’s a certain value in stepping back and giving yourself permission not to write. Strange as it sounds, taking a break from writing can actually help you write better. Our minds need space to breathe, to process, to let ideas simmer. Writing can be exhausting, even when it’s something you love, and those lazy moments are often where the inspiration quietly gathers.

This weekend, I didn’t do much just prepped for a meeting on Friday, and let the rest of the time drift. But even in that stillness, my mind was quietly shaping new work. I’ve started writing Letters from the Soul, Vol. 2, and the themes are beginning to take form. This new volume is shaping up to be a deeper exploration of the human experience, touching on PTSD, mental health, and the lives of veterans. Already, four of the ten poems are written, and each one feels like a small step toward capturing the voices and stories I want to honor.

I’m hoping to have this second volume completed and ready for release this Fall. It’s exciting to see the collection come together, even slowly, even in those quiet, lazy days when it feels like nothing is happening. Because in reality, those moments of pause are part of the creative process they allow the work to breathe, to grow, to find its shape.

So here’s to lazy weekends, to quiet moments, and to trusting that even when you pause, the work is still moving forward in its own way. Sometimes the best writing happens when you’re not trying so hard at all. That’s all for today. Wishing everyone a peaceful, inspiring week ahead.

Pondering

It’s been a hectic few days. We experienced a death in the family last week, and, as hard as it is, it has led me to reflect deeply. There’s a strange, almost ironic truth about death: it serves as a reminder to live. It forces us to pause, to ask ourselves the questions we often avoid. What is my legacy? What will I leave behind for the people I love and care about most?

It’s not material possessions that matter. I’ve never placed value on things, and I doubt anyone will remember the stuff we leave behind. What truly matters the kind of legacy worth striving for is how we show up in the lives of others. If people can look at you and say, “They were a good person. They gave even when they had little. They judged no one,” then that is a legacy that carries weight far beyond gold or property. The mark we leave is found in love, in care, in kindness, in the ways we touch others’ lives.

I was reminded of this very personally just today. I asked someone for help a person I’ve never met, who has never met me simply because I knew he knew my family. And he helped, without hesitation. That act of generosity, that willingness to give without expectation, is a legacy. I will always treasure that moment, not because of what was done, but because of the heart behind it. That’s the value of a person the quiet, sometimes unseen ways they impact the world.

True legacy isn’t in titles, wealth, or possessions. It’s in the moments we create for others, the love we share, the guidance we give, and the kindness we leave behind. It’s in the ways strangers can touch our lives and, in turn, remind us of the good in the world. So when you ask yourself, “What do I leave behind?” remember this: aim for kindness. Aim to love unconditionally. Aim to give without expecting anything in return. That is the gift the world needs, and the legacy worth leaving. That is the measure of a life well-lived.