Author Archives: donalddeanchambers

How does it feel . . . . . . to be the unaccepted, unloved, unwanted because of who I am? . . . to be neglected, pushed to the edge of the circle of my families and friends? . . . to be ignored, scorned, labelled and boxed in? . . . to beContinue reading “How does it feel?”

Written by Angelo Kurbanali On an ordinary day, I stand on my feet in the sand in ankle(ish) deep water. The ends of the waves coming and going, water splashing all around me. Some waves are larger than others, but the one certainty is that the waves are coming. Few of us in the CaribbeanContinue reading “God’s Grace Is Like The Caribbean Sea”

Listening is awareness, awareness of what’s happening within and around me. In me and around me, there’s mystery – hidden within my moods and emotions. THE MYSTERY OF JOY Listening is awareness that I am joyful at the birth of my child. Listening is awareness that I feel satisfied with my school examination results. ListeningContinue reading “Listening and Awareness”

It’s comforting, secure, trustworthy and intimate.  When touched, we feel the throbbing heartbeat, the gentle expansion and contraction of the movement of the chest, the smoothness of skin, and the stimulus of body odor tickles hairy nostrils.  The tenderness of hands, in slow motion, moving up and down a receptive body.  It’s the human touch.Continue reading “The Human Touch”

“I feel sad. . .anxious . . . helpless.” Words that appeared in a WhatsApp message from a friend. A relative ends up, again, in hospital. It’s a mental illness, a family’s cross, an unbearable cross. The cross of mental illness is too heavy. The victim falls to the ground. She can’t bear the struggleContinue reading “Helplessness”

It’s the dry season.  It’s hot, humid, and hazy. Plants wilting. Birds lethargic. Humans move in slow motion. Creation ‘badly’ thirsts.  It’s also Covid time. There’s dryness and emptiness – no physical touch, no gathering, no liming. We are thirsting, thirsting for human touch, face to face conversation, group fraternity.  Like a dear that thirstsContinue reading “Patient Waiting”

I stand at the edge of a cliff. With the eyes of an indigenous woman basking in the warmth and stillness of the morning, I look out at the sea. I see white waves anxiously rolling towards the jagged shoreline, some bunching aggressively into the scattered remnants of the land, and others cleverly making theirContinue reading “Waves of Liberation”