A new notebook.
A red line
already there,
drawn before
the child's first word.
Who drew the line?
At the edge
sit the quiet ones:
the back bench, the bare feet,
the first to read in her house.
The margin is a thin strip of soil,
yet the truest seeds fall there:
the doubts, the honest sums.
Who drew the line, and with whose hand?
One day the page tears itself free.
It climbs a stick and becomes a flag.
Chalk learns to speak on walls.
Young voices spread like ink through blotting paper.
The chairs change. The ruled line stays.
Now the page is glass. It has no margin, only eyes.
The same hungers scroll past: bread, work, a fair chance.
The shout is a spark on a screen; the stick now hides inside a wire.
Still the edge fills with small, stubborn handwriting, like grass through stone.
Equality is not a chair pulled up at the centre for those kept at the edge.
It is many hands on one ruler, drawing the page again, or not at all.
Who draws the line now? Ask the child
who opens a notebook with no red in it
and begins anywhere.
The world never stops going round,
as each person walks along the ground.
Different we all may be-
but the same we are deep beneath.
One may look different from another,
but deep down, down beneath-
we are funny, and we are all sweet.
Equality as an actual state of being
Only exists in the mathematical realm
A fact of quantity not quality.
No actual thing can ever equal another,
Simply because they occupy different time
And space, weight, mass and every other condition.
Not even one potato equals another.
So how could different people, sexes, races,
Tribes, nations, religions and cultures be equal?
But equality certainly exists
Outside mathematics,
But only as an ideal.
A god we are told to believe in,
Worship and aspire to become
Not as an is, but simply an ought.
(9/8/26)
Each teardrop falls, a quiet, glistening bead,
from moments full of joy to those that bleed;
no matter why it slips or where it lands,
it drifts into currents shaped by countless hands.
It joins a waterfall no eye can see,
a gentle tide of shared humanity;
each drop of laughter, heartbreak, or fear,
becomes a note within its tides of clear.
It flows in peace, a river soft and wide,
a place where every feeling learns to glide;
and when a tear rolls warm across your face,
you touch that hidden, ever growing place.
One day we’ll stand beside its breathtaking shore,
with everyone who cried and loved before;
a beach of light, where all our waters blend,
the brightest party where the tears all mend.
Who would have guessed — when I tilted my heart
toward baby lizard, perched on a colored desert stone,
she’d blink one eye at me, turn to smile, it seemed,
and lend a listening ear?
I’d only said in a lizard way:
I love you.
And who would have thought — that when stone had heard me
loving her, it would, it seem, speak back?
Loving stone, I was!
Stone, I so admire your villages.
I smile to your many stone peoples.
I eavesdrop on universal questions posed
around sacred fires carefully tended.
And around one hearth, among
cinder specks scattered– that one minute wisp,
grain of cinder there.
Dare I say I love you too?
I do! I do!
In that cinder grain I hear —
worlds of stars, sweetly singing!
By way of explanation, reader friend,
such is what a practice of
loving all beings equally
has made of me.
Crazed being?
Could be.
But could you nonetheless
accept the possibility
and likewise go love adventuring?
If you’d prefer, we could earnestly
and objectivity talk it all through.
Or say ~ Love come!
Speak through us.
Teach us how to listen.
This is probably the most difficult thing
To find these days
People are dying senselessly in mass shooting
Like ice pellets on snowy days
We are all shocked and amazed
In watching the around-the-clock news
Nobody in their right mind will be amused
By the absurd massacres of the innocents
Let’s find a way to stop all violence
Let’s pray for peaceful means
Let’s repent our sins
Let’s find solutions to our problems
Let’s stop the bloodshed
And extinguish the old flames
Of hate and bigotry, and the fire of hatred
Let’s bury them in the sand, my friends
With amicable and compassionate hands
Let’s find peace within ourselves
Let’s picture God on our walls, on our shelves
Let’s smile and wave to each other
Let’s care for each other, let’s love each other.
Copyright © December 4, 2015 Logerie Hébert, All Rights Reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
Equality
is unconditional
and appears in
the immediacy of
what's happening~~
All men are equal under God
(Equally just another walking talking blob of Earth)
But all men are not equal on this Earth
(Unequal in our every detail).
This is how it has always been
And always will be,
A given which spurs us on to sink or swim.
We’re equal in how we all can drown
We’re unequal in how we don’t.
And this is what makes Life worth living.
(3/2/26)
Let us smile one last time
As the end of us comes through.
I remained in my world,
And you in yours
Because for you
We are not equal.
Never can be.
It may take centuries to understand
That our minds carry equal weight,
Equal strength.
“My life is beneath yours.”
No, not at all.
“Your thinking is superior to mine.”
No, not at all.
I think as independently as water
Restless, shaping stone.
Why are we trapped
In this artificial world of dependency?
Weariness entered my life.
Wrinkles carved into my muscles.
My thoughts grew tired
This togetherness
That kept taxing my mind
Day after day.
One day I became sand,
Moving from dune to dune
Yet dependent on the wind
To carry me.
Isn’t that so?
Where is my space?
A free will like an asteroid
Yet still pulled
By some unseen gravity
Somewhere.
Life paused at this juncture.
So I disappeared
Or ran for a hundred years
Seeking an equal soul.
Nobody said life is fair.
It's not right that many kids suffer...
If only given better odds.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
NATURING EQUALITY
Plowing injustice,
We’re sowing seeds of justice:
Equity is reaped:-
.
"I love you Edvard"
i love you
eve
MLK: THE EBONY HUED HUMAN DOVE
He came bearing a dream for humanity;
Teaching nonviolence, peace, and love:-
He was a drum major for human equality;
Sent down to us by the Creator from above:-
Equality was never ours to own,
It may have been free, but only for the privileged
Equality is just a word, without any meaning,
Just emptiness, for us, and a foreign dream
Equality for us was never meant to be seen
Used as bait for those, who are targets -
To this unfair scheme
freedom sold at a price -
A deal in exchange for our life,
A way to control and keep us quiet
They stole our rights, just like they stole our lands
Then used our pain to their advantage
Profiting off of the power they corrupted,
Whilst watching us for rights -
They allowed themselves to have for free,
Creating systems to uphold their policies
Equality is universal,
Yet, has been manipulated by the white man,
For capitalistic greed,
And ownership of power,
And now is a luxury, given only to a select few
Destined a red rose, as her tired feet were that day
Day she stepped on the bus, she sat where she should
Should, upfront, where she belongs, so peacefully
Peacefully, with fortitude, seeking equality and justice.
Justice she never thought would come with such liberty
Liberty divinely shining, smiling eloquently, abundantly
Abundantly with God’s fortitude, her aching feet planted
Planted to move not, like a tree rooted beside still waters.
Waters of stillness in her soul, running deep, led by God
God leading her through the valley of the shadow of death
Death where the Lord is her Shepherd—she feared no evil
Evil, His rod and staff protect her with goodness and mercy.
Mercy, she shows all the days of her life compassionately
Compassionately, with reverence and love for humanity.
© Dr. Joseph S. Spence Sr., Ph.D. (Epulaeryu Master). All Rights Reserved. December 1, 2025.
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