Poems by Jordan A. Leturgez

We unclasp the small, rusty bones of yesterday--
fingers tasting the cold iron of old promises,
and lift them like explained maps,
learning at last the names of our wounds.

Sun arrives as a patient witness,
burning the thin varnish of fear.
It finds the places where we hid our voices
and stains them gold; the songs spill out
like water from a cracked pot, generous and surprised.

There is a language that only unshackled feet speak:
the soft percussion of steps that do not ask permission,
the hush of breath that no longer counts its cost.
We trade the grammar of survival for an accent of daring,
and the world, for once, listens.

Liberation is not a single door opened;
it is the rustling of rooms within us,
the slow uncoiling of a bird's wings after winter,
the way a river remembers the sea and rushes toward it.

We plant our names in places that once forbade them,
root them deep as anchors and light as prayers.
Hands that trembled learn the shape of holding--
not to grasp, but to offer: food, truth, forgiveness.
Laughter becomes the currency of mornings.

And when the old gates fall--no clatter, only a wind that carries away the last lock--
we step through with pockets full of small, ordinary brave things:
a child's first clear question, an apology that reaches across a table,
the courage to say I was wrong, I am learning, I will stay.

Freedom tastes like a door left open at dusk,
like salt on lips after long, earnest travel.
It is not spotless. It bears the scab of every healed cut,
the history of every hand that pushed and did not relent.
It asks patience, vigilance, the willingness to repair.

Still, once unbound, we move: a sea of soft uprisings,
a chorus of feet, of seeds, of promises, of truth.
We become the small miracles we were taught to fear:
unafraid of light, unafraid of loss, unafraid to be tender.

Tonight the stars seem nearer, as if on purpose.
We lay our maps on the grass, trace new lines with bright, stubborn fingers,
and name the places we will not leave to shadows.
Liberation is the work of living whole, of being honest with our hands.
It is the music we finally allow ourselves to dance to.

We live to see the day -- not as a promise
but as a small, stubborn miracle.
Night folds its palms and hides its eyes,
but we keep watch: breath against cold glass,
fingers tracing the map of where we were.

We live to see the day when the sky
learns to be generous again,
spilling light like an apology
across roofs, across the rumor of streets.
There is a language in the way dust trembles
as if remembering how to be gold.

We live to see the day for quiet things:
a cup warming a palm, a child's laugh
peeling like sun through the laundry,
an old song hummed into a doctor's waiting room.
We live to see the day for heavy things too--
for names spoken without the clatter of tears,
for graves that become gardens under our hands.

We live to see the day because someone
laid down their fear like a bridge,
because someone else dug their knees in and would not move.
Because the past keeps sending signals: ashes that still warm,
letters folded in pockets, the weight of lessons learned.
We carry them forward, not as anchors but as fuel.

We live to see the day to fill it: with repair,
with stubborn kindness, with stubborn laughter.
We live to see the day and learn again to trust
the small mercy of morning: that light arrives
even when we have nothing left to bargain with.
We rise anyway, shoulder to shoulder with dawn,
bearing the quiet stubbornness of survivors.

We live to see the day -- and when it comes,
we do not hoard it. We open every window,
let it move through us like wind, let it wake the seeds.
We lay our palms on the world and say, here.
We are here to meet you. We are here to keep you.
We are here to make of this bright terrible gift
a life that remembers why it wanted light.

We meet in the small porch of a screen,
where sentences arrive like evening light --
soft, immediate, folding into the lap
of whatever day we carry home.

Your laugh is a kettle I can hear boiling
across the distance; my silence a warm shawl
you drape without asking. Names and weather
turn into meaning: a shared slice of sky.

There is no grand reveal, only the slow work
of two hands drafting a bridge from ordinary words.
We patch the loneliness with small kindnesses --
a recipe, a memory, a condolence sent like bread.

Sometimes the chat is a river: quick, bright,
skipping stones of gossip and dreams.
Sometimes it is a hearth, low and patient,
where we roast our fears until they're tender.

No prophecy here, only presence -- the steady light
that makes the margins of our days readable.
A friendly chat: a light left on in the window,
an invitation that says, Come as you are.

My emotions is flowing as deep as the ocean
But unlike most men, I don't want to be in the top ten
Every woman wants only a one of a kind
so I feel like i'm number one in my own mind

Heavenly father, I'm troubled. No One notices my struggles
How can I stay focus on the game when No One loves you
Over the years, it's like putting a cast on
While the pain keeps getting passed on

I asked myself where is God when I need him
Everyday I say forgive me father for I am sin
From morning to night, is everything alright
I have fallen until I have came out of sight

I only want the best and never settle for less
The only thing that matters in life is success
I'm blessed. By the god of the universe
My past is a memory just like the Converse

I got nothing but love for the ladies
I was raised by one, but she was so shady
Every woman in my life was like a queen
But in the end of the day, they're nothing but could have beens

I believe you must be born again, John 3:16 is true
The old life can be washed away, Everything made new
I try not worry about the past
Because the one thing I do know is that my honesty will last

You know it's hard to get a win
When everyday struggles starts over again
So when you know how to control your sins
Then your time of living happy will soon begin

When I was young, I was dumb at certain points
But I did avoid messing with any kind of joint
The man from above can judge me only
That's why there's only one Ballin' J-Money

Dream on without fear, dear soul,

Let your visions take flight and soar,

With courage as your guiding star,

Embrace the unknown, unlock the door.

In the realm of dreams, all is possible,

Where the boundaries of reality fade,

Let your heart be your compass,

And let your dreams be unafraid.

In the tapestry of the night sky,

Find the threads of your wildest dreams,

Weave them into a masterpiece,

A vision bursting at the seams.

Dream on without fear, my friend,

For in your dreams lies the key,

To unlock the mysteries of your soul,

And set your spirit free.

In the heart of the bay where the waters dance,

There roam the boys with the sun-kissed glance.

Their laughter echoes through the salty air,

As they navigate the waves without a care.

With calloused hands and weathered skin,

They bravely face the storm that lies within.

Their eyes reflect the endless horizon,

In search of treasures that remain unrisen.

Through trials of the sea, they stand tall and brave,

Where the wild winds whisper, and the waters crave.

In their souls, a longing for the unknown,

As they navigate the depths, all on their own.

Oh, bay boys with hearts of fire and sea,

Your spirit soars, wild and free.

May your journey be guided by stars above,

And the ocean's embrace, forever your love.

In the stillness of the hour, when time holds its breath,

A whisper curls in shadows, where dreams dance with death,

This one moment, fragile, like dew upon dawn,

A flicker of eternity, soon to be gone.

The world sprawls around us, in chaos and haste,

Yet here, in this heartbeat, we savor the taste,

Of silence unbroken, of secrets untold,

The warmth of connection, more precious than gold.

The sun dips low, painting skies in a blaze,

A canvas of colors, igniting our gaze,

And all the wild echoes, the laughter, the sighs,

Melt into the fabric of dusk's velvet skies.

In this moment, we linger, our souls intertwine,

Each breath a reminder, your heart beats with mine,

For what is this life, but a series of beats,

Fleeting and fragile, like the touch of our feet?

So let's hold this instant, let it cradle our fears,

Let it remind us, amidst laughter and tears,

That in all the tomorrows, in the vastness we roam,

This one moment, dear lover, is where we find home.

A treasure unspoken, a flickering flame,

Two souls in the silence, not seeking acclaim,

For in truth, in this now, and the way that it flows,

We awaken to love, in the still watch it grows.

So here, let us linger, as stars start to fade,

In this one tender heartbeat, our eternity made,

For moments are feathers, that drift on the night,

Yet this one moment, my dear, is pure light.

In the hush of twilight's gentle sigh,

Where shadows linger, and dreams dare to fly,

Whispers of valor weave through the air,

Tales of the unyielding, cloaked in despair.

Beneath the stars, in the depths of night,

Heroes awaken, igniting the fight.

With every heartbeat etched bold on the skin,

They carry the burdens where hope has been thin.

Through valleys of sorrow, where anguish has roamed,

In the face of the tempest, their spirits have combed,

They rise like the dawn, fierce and unbroken,

Voices that tremble with words left unspoken.

From rocky encampments where spirits may stray,

To cities adorned with memories frayed,

Each echo tells stories of courage and grace,

Of hands that have lifted the fallen from grace.

In the flicker of flame, their shadows appear,

Guardians of spirit, the brave and the dear.

Every struggle a testament carved into time,

Their legacy hums, a resounding rhyme.

For in the heart of the storm, when the world seems to fade,

The unyielding stand firm, unbowed and displayed.

They write with their actions, in blood, sweat, and tears,

Crafting a saga that conquers our fears.

So listen, dear soul, to the echoes that call,

In unity's strength, let us rise and not fall.

For the tales of the steadfast, in whispers or shouts,

Remind us of courage, of what life's about.

Let valor's embrace be our guiding light,

As we march through the shadows, unyielding, in sight.

For the echoes of valor, forever will soar,

A tapestry woven where spirits restore.

In the hush of dawn, where dreams ignite,
A whisper calls to hearts in flight,
A comet's tail through the velvet sky,
"Stay on target," it breathes with a sigh.

The world may swirl, a tempest's dance,
But in focused gaze lies the chance,
To weave through storms, to pierce the night,
A steadfast spark, our guiding light.

When shadows loom and doubts ensnare,
Hold tight to the vision, breathe in the air,
For every setback, a lesson learned,
Every flicker of hope, a fire burned.

Through valleys deep and mountains steep,
In the echo of silence, dreams don't sleep.
So anchor your will, like roots in the ground,
In the rhythm of purpose, let courage abound.

Let not the noise of the world distract,
Keep your heart's compass, its true abstract.
With clarity woven in the fabric of fate,
You're not just a dreamer; you're a piece of the great.

So rise with the sun, and seize the day,
Carry your vision, don't drift away.
For the stars above, in their vast array,
Whisper to us softly, "Stay on target, stay."

With each step forward, feel the pulse,
The beat of your passion, the truth that repulses,
Fear and the doubt, from shadows be free,
For in staying on target, you'll find who you're meant to be.

In the hush of twilight's tender embrace,
Where shadows dance and dreams interlace,
There rings a sound, sweet as a spell,
A whisper of magic--silver bells.

They chime through the air, soft and clear,
Notes woven with hope, a song we hold dear.
A shimmer that glistens on crisp winter nights,
A tapestry woven with shimmering lights.

Each toll tells a tale of the years gone by,
Of laughter and love beneath vast, starry sky.
They summon the memories, fragile yet bright,
Of children in snow, their faces alight.

With hearts like the chiming, they echo and swell,
The joy of the moment, the stories they tell.
The frost-kissed air carries secrets anew,
Embracing the warmth of the bonds that we grew.

As softly they ring, like a lover's soft sigh,
Calling us home where the sweet spirits fly.
They bring forth the peace that the season bestows,
A symphony echoing as soft as a rose.

So listen, dear friend, as the silver bells chime,
Let their melody cradle you, timeless as rhyme.
In this world full of chaos, be still and behold,
The magic they weave, in their shimmering gold.