Glendal Wallace -Poet and Author

You lived with purpose and passion

reflected in all that you did:

for you were the Art of beauty

beauty embraced with the warmth

and light of your smile—

a smile that spoke kindness, grace, joy

a beauty that spoke ease in your presence

strength in your essence

for you were the Art of giving

giving enriched with a heart of delight

you gave us gifts like a ready laugh

encouraging words like an evening bath

for those you loved—giving

was your nature, your purpose

for you were the Art of having courage

courage empowered by the will to fight

life’s battles and fight you did through

years of pain, moments of shame

fighting through struggles and countless tests

some you mastered, more or less

but He who knows the heart saw you through it

for you were the Art of loving others

your love engulfed with everyday acts

service, generosity, artistic reciprocity

that was the aura of your love

a heart that loved life and life

loved you right back…

now gone you are from pain and strife

you leave us with your Art-istic life

and we say thank you.

©Glendal Wallace 2025 

To swirl aimlessly in flight

to frolic through luscious green parks

hurriedly flowing city streets, gaze at beautiful castles

whose beauty fails to compare to newly wedded bliss

love deserves

to skip to sounds of morning birds

scurry along cast iron fences

listen pensively to nature’s evening melodies

then stop—at whim—to sit on steps of contemplation

pondering, waiting its next move

Oh yes, love deserves

despite seasons of sadness, sickness, stale days

despite plateaus of poverty, perplexity, painfulness

despite crossing egresses of injury, injustice, indecency

despite treading cobblestones of chaos, cultural divides

despite rolling meadows of misery, misfortune, malice

Love still deserves

to believe all things…hope all things…endure all things

So yes, let love dance—it must

lift its limber arms in praise and adoration

victoriously glide along streets of faith

paved with grace-filled moments

sprinkled with mercies, surprises, passion

yes, let love exude its breathful aura

whisper its tender request

close its eyes, give warm kisses

ooze its playful pheromone

wiggle its feet (if it wants)

for love deserves its dance

Today I have learned that existence and self-worth is not defined by lifestyle or job title. We all have worth and giftedness. It is those unerring qualities that come forth whether people or situations try to block our path or not. Our light can and will shine.

There had always been an adequate amount of synchronicity in my life especially in my adult life, professional life and teaching career. But, when I decided to seek and subsequently obtain my administrative credentials, I trusted that the cosmic flow of having what I assumed was mine to have, possess, garner would be simple and with purposeful ease. Boy, was I in for a huge awakening. On the final day and in the selfsame hour that I completed my administrative internship training, I discovered that there were roadblocks already set in place to obstruct my advancement in order to keep me right where I was—working in a rigid classroom-based teaching position. Every administrative opening that I qualified and applied for remained a futile effort and heart-rendering struggle.

This pattern remained in place for four brutally painful years. Midway during that period, I prayed to overcome the hurt and pain of feeling stuck, rejected and nonvalidated in my professional worth. In time, with the support of family and friends, I learned to accept the reality of my struggle, forgive the road blockers (Oh, they did manifest themselves), and move on with my life.

Today, I love what I do—I love who I serve—I love my students—I love the place where the sole of my feet tread. I am fully grounded in gratitude—in knowing that I am where I am supposed to be.

Are you like me

when your hand

touches, gleefully glides

the steering wheel

of your everyday-day

taking-you-everywhere…

finally making that turn

arriving at the corner

of your often predictable

street…weary eyes

coming to a nebulous crawl

like your tired wheels

like your tired body

like your tired mind

arriving home…

that sacred place

of being

of clarity

exhaling

all the fumes

emissions

omissions

of life’s

daily grind?

This morning I heard the soft, steady hum of a small room fan

Felt the plush, chilled leather of an old man’s recliner

Gathered heavy-laden limbs from my wayward wisteria tree

Lush begonias propped nearby—in a cracked concrete planter

This morning I heard two sparrows uttering a one-to-one love call

Pondered the angst-driven interplay of squirrels wrestling for ground food

Discouragement of scattered leaves clamoring for autumn stillness

Then saw my grandchild’s toy lying— where he last played

This morning I heard the huddled throng of random laughter and chaos

Felt the variegated bodies of middle-schoolers in narrow hallways

Observed their scuttled feet making leaps to a readied classroom

With crumpled hoodies and tangled headphones wrapped about

arms guarded with wireless laptops— being wired for success

It all reminds me…assures me that life contains speckled pockets

of unexplainable joy in the midst of pain and anguish.