Category: Book Club

From Family Stories to Fiction: Reimagining Mami Wata in the Tidewalker Series
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From Family Stories to Fiction: Reimagining Mami Wata in the Tidewalker Series

Lulu LeeLeave a comment

One of the most rewarding parts of writing the Tidewalker series has been discovering how deeply stories, family history, and culture are connected.

As I continue working on Book Two, I have found myself returning to the stories I heard as a child about Mami Wata. Long before I began writing fiction, I remember listening to my aunt share tales about this mysterious water spirit. Like many stories passed down through generations, there was often an element of fear woven into them. Mami Wata was powerful, beautiful, unpredictable, and not always understood. Some stories portrayed her as a blessing, while others warned that she could bring misfortune.

One story in particular stayed with me for years. My aunt believed that Mami Wata had somehow cursed our family line. Whether she meant this literally or symbolically, I cannot say. What I do know is that many families carry stories like these—stories that attempt to explain hardship, loss, unusual gifts, or events that seem larger than life.

As an adult and as a writer, I have begun to view these stories differently.

Rather than seeing a curse, I find myself asking another question:

What if it was a calling?

That question became one of the inspirations behind the Tidewalker series.

The Real Mami Wata

Mami Wata is one of the most well-known spiritual figures throughout West and Central Africa. Her name is often translated as “Mother Water,” and stories about her can be found across many cultures and countries. She is often depicted as a beautiful woman connected to rivers, oceans, wealth, healing, fertility, and spiritual power.

Like many ancient figures, Mami Wata is complex. She can represent both danger and blessing, temptation and transformation. Depending on the region and storyteller, her role changes. Some people view her as a protector. Others see her as a warning. Many traditions portray her as a bridge between the physical and spiritual worlds.

What fascinates me most is that Mami Wata is rarely simple. She exists in the space between certainty and mystery.

From Curse to Prophecy

As I developed the world of the Tidewalkers, I found myself moving away from the idea of a cursed bloodline.

Instead, I began imagining a family chosen for a purpose they did not fully understand.

In the story, N’Poreh’s family line is tied to an ancient prophecy that has been forgotten by most of the world. What many people interpret as misfortune, strangeness, or bad luck is actually the weight of a responsibility carried across generations.

The family is not being punished.

They are being prepared.

This shift changed everything for me.

A curse suggests hopelessness.

A prophecy suggests purpose.

A curse traps people in the past.

A prophecy calls them toward the future.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized this idea reflected something I have seen in real life. Families often inherit stories about what is wrong with them. We inherit narratives about failure, trauma, loss, or limitations. Yet sometimes those same experiences are preparing us to become something greater than we imagined.

A Personal Connection

While researching my own family history, I found myself thinking about my grandmother, M’Balu Sankoh, who was born in the Maforki region of Sierra Leone. I have spent time exploring the history of the area, learning about the Temne people, and tracing fragments of stories passed down through my family.

Like many people researching their ancestry, I have discovered that records often leave gaps. Names are forgotten. Villages change. Stories become fragmented over time.

Yet the stories remain.

Perhaps that is why storytelling matters so much.

Stories preserve what records cannot.

They carry memories, values, fears, hopes, and dreams across generations.

In many ways, the Tidewalker series has become my way of honoring those stories while imagining what might have been hidden between the lines.

Looking Ahead

As I continue writing Book Two, I am excited to explore the deeper connection between N’Poreh, Mami Wata, and the prophecy that binds both worlds together.

The story is becoming less about good versus evil and more about identity, destiny, sacrifice, and unity.

What if the things we fear most about our family history are not curses at all?

What if they are invitations?

What if the stories passed down through generations are not warnings about who we are destined to become—but reminders of who we have always been?

That question continues to guide me as I write.

And perhaps it is the question at the heart of the Tidewalker series itself.

Author’s Note

The Tidewalker series is inspired by West African folklore, family stories, and my ongoing exploration of Sierra Leonean history and culture. While the story is fictional, many of its themes—identity, belonging, ancestry, and healing—are deeply personal. As I continue researching my family’s roots and writing Book Two, I find myself increasingly grateful for the storytellers who came before me and preserved pieces of history that might otherwise have been lost.

The Complexity of Mother’s Day
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The Complexity of Mother’s Day

Lulu LeeLeave a comment

Mother’s Day is a layered day for millions of women.

In one breath, we are overjoyed to celebrate the bond we share with our children. We hold them close, laugh with them, and feel gratitude for the opportunity to love them in ways we may not have been loved ourselves. But in the next breath, many of us are grieving. Not necessarily because our mothers are gone, but because of the painful realization that we never truly experienced the kind of mothering we needed.

There is a particular kind of grief that comes from watching someone give to others what they could never seem to give to you.

Sometimes I look back at the way my mother treated my siblings and wonder if she truly saw me as her child at all. I witnessed her capacity for love, tenderness, and compassion. I saw her celebrate others, support others, and show up emotionally for others. That is what made it hurt even more. It wasn’t that she lacked the ability to love. It was realizing that, somehow, that love rarely reached me.

For a long time, I questioned myself because of it. Children naturally assume that love is earned. So when it is withheld, inconsistent, or conditional, many of us grow up believing we must have done something wrong. We spend years trying to become more lovable, more agreeable, more accomplished, more useful — hoping that eventually we will receive the softness we have been craving all along.

But some wounds do not come from loud abuse. Some come quietly through emotional absence, comparison, neglect, favoritism, or simply never feeling chosen.

Mother’s Day can reopen those wounds.

It can be painful to scroll through celebration after celebration while carrying the silent grief of never feeling protected, nurtured, or emotionally safe. Society often speaks about motherhood as though it is automatically loving, but many people are learning that giving birth and providing emotional care are not always the same thing.

And yet, despite all of this, many wounded daughters grow up to become incredibly loving mothers themselves.

There is something both heartbreaking and beautiful about learning to give your children the love you once begged for. Many mothers are actively breaking cycles while simultaneously grieving the childhoods they never had. That emotional contradiction is exhausting. It is possible to deeply love your children while mourning the fact that no one loved you in that same way.

Both things can exist at once.

For those carrying complicated feelings this Mother’s Day, you are not alone. Your grief does not make you ungrateful, bitter, or broken. It makes you human. Healing often begins when we finally allow ourselves to acknowledge what we lost instead of pretending it never mattered.

And maybe that is where the real healing begins:
Not in forcing ourselves to celebrate what hurt us,
but in becoming the kind of love we deserved all along.

Are We Each Our Own Universe? Why It’s So Hard to Be Fully Understood
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Are We Each Our Own Universe? Why It’s So Hard to Be Fully Understood

Lulu LeeLeave a comment

There’s a thought that’s been sitting with me lately:

What if each human being is their own universe?

Not in a literal sense—but in the way we experience the world.

Each of us carries our own history, our own rules, our own way of making meaning out of what happens to us. No two people walk through life with the exact same lens. Even when we share space, share love, share experiences—we are still interpreting it all differently.

And maybe…that’s why it can feel so hard to be fully understood.

We Are All Living in Different “Worlds”

Think about it for a moment.

Everything you believe about yourself—your worth, your safety, your place in the world—was shaped over time. Through childhood. Through relationships. Through moments that stayed with you longer than you expected.

Those experiences didn’t just happen and disappear.

They became the rules of your inner world.

For some, the world feels safe and predictable.

For others, especially those carrying deep emotional wounds or experiences like Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, the internal world may operate very differently—where trust feels risky, love feels uncertain, and safety doesn’t come easily.

Same world. Different realities.

Why Words Don’t Always Land the Way We Mean Them

We rely on language to connect, but language has limits.

You might say, “I feel hurt,” and mean something layered, deep, and rooted in years of experience.

Someone else might hear that and think of a passing moment—something small, something temporary.

The words are the same, but the meaning isn’t.

Because when we speak, we’re expressing something from our universe—and when someone listens, they’re interpreting it through theirs.

The Gap Between Being Heard and Being Understood

There’s a difference between someone hearing you and someone truly understanding you.

You can explain yourself clearly.
You can be open, vulnerable, and honest.

And still feel…missed.

Not because the other person doesn’t care—but because they don’t have the same internal reference points. They haven’t lived your exact experiences. They don’t carry your exact meanings.

And there are parts of you that simply cannot be translated perfectly into words.

So What Does Real Understanding Look Like?

Maybe it’s not about someone saying,
“I know exactly how you feel.”

Maybe it’s quieter than that.

Maybe it sounds like:
“I may not fully understand, but I’m here.”
“Help me see it the way you do.”
“I believe you.”

Real understanding isn’t perfect. It’s intentional.

It’s someone choosing to step closer to your world, even if they can’t fully live in it.

A Shift in Expectation

What if the goal isn’t to be completely understood?

What if the goal is to be seen—honestly, gently, and without dismissal?

To be understood enough that you don’t feel alone in your experience.

And to offer that same grace to others—recognizing that they, too, are navigating a world shaped by things we may never fully see.

Final Thought

If we are each our own universe, then connection isn’t about becoming the same.

It’s about learning how to visit each other’s worlds with care.

And maybe that’s where healing begins

I’m Not Behind—My Life Is Just Full
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I’m Not Behind—My Life Is Just Full

Lulu LeeLeave a comment

Lately, I’ve been feeling like I’m falling behind.

Not because I don’t have ideas—but because I have too many.

My garden is growing, my recipe book is coming together, and somewhere in the middle of all of that… my Tidewalker series is waiting for me. Book Two is still sitting in the early stages of editing, quietly asking for my attention.

And for a moment, I thought that meant I was failing.

That I wasn’t focused enough.
That I needed to “get it together.”
That I was somehow dropping the ball on something that matters to me.

But the truth is… I’m not behind.

My life is just full.

Full of things I prayed for.
Full of things I once only dreamed about having the courage to start.
Full of growth—both the kind you can see, and the kind you can’t.

I’m learning that not everything is meant to move forward at the same time.

Some seasons are for planting.
Some are for building.
Some are for resting.
And some are simply for living in what you’ve already created.

Right now, my hands are in the soil. I’m learning, experimenting, and finding joy in growing something tangible. My kitchen has become a space of creativity again, where I’m building recipes that tell a story of their own.

And my writing?

It’s still there.

Waiting. Breathing. Becoming.

I haven’t abandoned it—I’m just not forcing it.

Because I’m starting to understand that forcing growth doesn’t make it happen faster. It just makes it harder to enjoy.

The Tidewalker series deserves my full presence, my imagination, and my care. And when I return to it, I don’t want to feel rushed or disconnected—I want to feel ready.

So instead of criticizing myself for not doing everything at once, I’m choosing something different.

I’m choosing to honor the season I’m in.

To trust that everything I’m building is still moving forward—even if it’s not all happening at the same time.

To remind myself that progress doesn’t always look like productivity.

Sometimes, it looks like tending to what’s right in front of you.

Sometimes, it looks like pausing without quitting.

And sometimes… it looks like giving yourself permission to simply be.

If you’ve been feeling like you’re behind lately, I want you to hear this:

You’re not behind either.

Your life might just be full too.

Book Club Reflections: Reading The Book of Enoch While Writing Book Two
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Book Club Reflections: Reading The Book of Enoch While Writing Book Two

Lulu LeeLeave a comment

Lately my reading has taken a different direction.

Instead of picking up a modern novel or memoir, I’ve been spending time with The Book of Enoch while editing the second book in my Tidewalkers series, When the Sea Remembers.

It’s been fascinating, challenging, and honestly… a little disorienting in the best way.

But I’ll also admit something:
I’ve been feeling a bit stuck creatively.

When Creativity Slows Down

Editing a story can sometimes feel harder than writing the first draft.

When I was originally writing When the Sea Remembers, the ideas flowed naturally. The characters felt alive, and the world of the tidewalkers seemed to unfold on its own.

But editing requires something different. It asks you to slow down, question your choices, tighten the story, and sometimes step back when the creative energy isn’t there.

Lately, I’ve been wondering if the winter weather is part of it. The days are shorter, the skies are gray, and the creative spark feels quieter than usual.

I’m learning that sometimes creativity doesn’t disappear — it simply pauses.

Reading Ancient Texts While Building a Fantasy World

Reading The Book of Enoch while editing my story has been surprisingly inspiring.

Ancient texts like this remind me how long humans have been telling stories about the unseen world, spiritual mysteries, and forces that shape human life.

Even though my Tidewalkers series is fictional, those themes — mystery, the unknown, and the connection between different worlds — echo through many ancient traditions.

It reminds me that storytelling has always been a way for people to explore what they cannot fully explain.

The Importance of Creative Patience

One thing I’m learning as a writer is that creativity has seasons.

Some seasons are fast and exciting, where ideas pour out effortlessly.

Other seasons are quieter. They ask for reflection, reading, research, and patience.

Right now, I think I’m in one of those quieter seasons.

And maybe that’s not a bad thing.

Sometimes stepping back, reading deeply, and letting ideas simmer is exactly what a story needs before it can move forward.

Trusting the Process

The Tidewalkers world is still very much alive in my mind. Ezra, Neri, and the world beneath the sea are waiting for their story to continue.

For now, I’m reading, reflecting, and slowly working through the edits.

Stories have their own rhythm. And I’m learning to respect that rhythm instead of forcing it.

If you’re a writer or creative person, you probably know this feeling well.

Sometimes the best thing we can do is keep showing up — even when the words come slowly.

A Season of Spiritual Curiosity

Reading The Book of Enoch has also stirred something deeper in me — a quiet curiosity about spirituality, ancient traditions, and how people throughout history have tried to understand the unseen world.

When I immigrated to the United States as a young girl, much of my understanding of faith and religion came through very specific teachings and structured interpretations. As I’ve grown older, I’ve become more interested in exploring spiritual texts with fresh eyes and asking my own questions.

Not necessarily to find definitive answers, but to understand the bigger picture of how humans across cultures and generations have tried to make sense of existence, morality, mystery, and purpose.

That curiosity often finds its way into my writing.

The Tidewalkers world, while fictional, explores similar ideas — the existence of parallel worlds, unseen forces, and the delicate balance between human life and the natural world. Stories have always been a way for people to wrestle with questions that don’t have simple explanations.

Reading ancient texts like The Book of Enoch reminds me that storytelling and spiritual exploration have always been closely connected.

Both invite us to imagine beyond what we can immediately see.

And maybe that’s part of why this season of slower creativity doesn’t feel entirely frustrating. It feels more like a period of reflection — a time to read deeply, think carefully, and allow new ideas to take shape beneath the surface.

Just like seeds waiting underground before they begin to grow.

A Quiet Glimpse of What’s Coming

As I continue editing When the Sea Remembers, the second book in the Tidewalkers series, I’m slowly rediscovering the depth of the world I began building in the first book. Ezra and Neri’s story is far from finished, and the tides that connect their two worlds are becoming more complicated than either of them expected. There are choices ahead that will test loyalty, courage, and the fragile balance between land and sea. For now, the story is still taking shape beneath the surface — but I can already feel that the next chapter of their journey will carry them into deeper waters.

Book Club Update: Introducing Legacy
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Book Club Update: Introducing Legacy

Lulu LeeLeave a comment

This month’s Book Club post is a little different. Instead of reflecting on a book I’ve read, I’m sharing a book I’ve written.

My latest chapbook, Legacy: A Collection of Poems, grew out of a long, quiet process of learning, unlearning, and sitting with uncomfortable truths. It reflects my discovery of the African American experience after immigrating to the United States as a preteen in the early 1990s—and how learning about the transatlantic slave trade reshaped the way I see history, identity, and my place in the world today.

If you’d like to read Legacy, it’s available here:
👉 https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GM7KDDDV

Coming to the U.S. and Learning What I Didn’t Know

When I arrived in the United States, I came with my own sense of self, culture, and history. Like many immigrants, I was focused on adapting—learning how to belong, how to succeed, how to survive in a new place. What I didn’t yet understand was how deeply history lived beneath everyday life here.

It wasn’t until later—through school, conversations, reading, and lived experience—that I began to truly grasp the scope and brutality of the slave trade and its lasting impact on African Americans. That knowledge didn’t arrive all at once. It unfolded slowly, and with it came grief, anger, confusion, and a profound shift in my worldview.

Legacy was born from that reckoning.

What Legacy Holds

This chapbook is not an attempt to speak for anyone. It is a record of how learning this history changed me—how it complicated my understanding of freedom, resilience, inheritance, and responsibility.

The poems explore:

  • the weight of historical truth
  • the distance and connection between African and African American experiences
  • what it means to arrive somewhere without fully knowing its past
  • how knowledge reshapes identity
  • and how history continues to echo through the present

Writing these poems required me to slow down and listen—to history, to voices that came before me, and to my own evolving understanding.

Why This Book Matters to Me Now

Legacy represents a turning point in my writing. It’s where reflection met accountability. Where curiosity met responsibility. Where I stopped looking away from discomfort and allowed it to inform how I move through the world.

This book is about inheritance—not just of trauma, but of truth. And about what we do once we know better.

A Quiet Invitation

I’m sharing Legacy here because this Book Club space has always been about reflection and growth. If you choose to read it, I hope it invites you to pause, to consider history more closely, and to reflect on how knowledge shapes compassion.

Some books entertain.
Some educate.
And some simply ask us to sit with what we’ve learned.

Legacy is that kind of book for me.

Book Club Reflection: Finding Perspective with The Midnight Library
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Book Club Reflection: Finding Perspective with The Midnight Library

Lulu LeeLeave a comment

A few years ago, in the middle of the pandemic, my family was carrying more stress than we knew how to name. Like so many households, our routines were disrupted, uncertainty felt constant, and my kids were overwhelmed in ways that showed up quietly — in moods, in questions, in exhaustion.

Around that time, a good friend recommended a book for our family book club: The Midnight Library by Matt Haig. We decided to read it together, not knowing just how much it would shift the way we were thinking about our lives.

If you want to check it out, here’s a link to the book:

👉 https://a.co/d/5bWxTcP

What stood out most wasn’t just the story itself, but the conversations it sparked in our home.

Reading It Together Changed How We Saw Our Lives

At its core, The Midnight Library invites readers to think about the many versions of life we imagine for ourselves — the what ifs, the roads not taken, the choices that could have led us somewhere else. During a time when everything felt heavy, that idea resonated deeply with all of us.

As a family, we talked about regret, disappointment, and the temptation to compare our current lives to imagined alternatives. We talked about how easy it is to get caught up in what could have been and miss the value of what is.

What the book helped us see — gently and without judgment — is that even the hardest parts of our lives still hold meaning. That the life we are living, imperfect and unfinished, deserves our attention and care.

A Lesson That Still Stays With Us

Years later, we still reference this book from time to time. When one of us feels stuck, frustrated, or overwhelmed, the reminder comes back:

Don’t forget to take in the life you have.

That doesn’t mean ignoring pain or pretending everything is fine. It means learning how to hold gratitude and struggle at the same time. It means appreciating growth, resilience, and connection — even when circumstances are far from ideal.

For my kids especially, this book offered language for feelings they didn’t yet have words for. It helped them understand that stress and uncertainty don’t mean failure — they’re part of being human.

Why I Still Recommend This Book

I recommend The Midnight Library not because it offers easy answers, but because it encourages thoughtful reflection. It opens the door to meaningful conversations — especially within families — about choice, perspective, and how we learn to make peace with the lives we’re living.

It was exactly the book we needed at that moment in time. And looking back, I’m grateful we read it together.

Sometimes the right book doesn’t change your circumstances — it changes how you see them. And that can make all the difference.

What are your favorite books? Why?

December Book Club: Saying “Yes” to Courage, Creativity, and Growth
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December Book Club: Saying “Yes” to Courage, Creativity, and Growth

Lulu LeeLeave a comment

This month, I’ve been deep into Year of Yes by Shonda Rhimes — and let me tell you, this book could not have arrived at a better time. It’s honest, funny, bold, and full of the kind of energy that nudges you out of your comfort zone in the best way possible.

I’m almost done with it as this post goes live, and I already know it’s one of those books I’ll revisit whenever I need a reminder to choose myself, to stretch, to be brave, and to embrace opportunities even when they feel intimidating. Shonda writes with a voice that feels familiar — like a friend sitting across from you telling the truth you’ve been avoiding. And this month, I needed that voice.

Interested in Reading Along?

If you’re interested in reading along with me, here are the versions I recommend:

What “Yes” Has Meant for Me This Month

Reading Year of Yes during the holiday season has felt surprisingly grounding. It’s pushed me to think about what I want next, what I’m afraid of, and where I’ve been shrinking myself out of habit rather than choice.

And it’s reminded me how important it is to say “yes” to the things that bring me joy — including my writing.

Which brings me to the second half of this month’s update…

Tidewalker Series Update: Book Two Is Taking Shape

Book Two has been a steady work in progress these last few weeks, and Year of Yes has absolutely inspired the way I’m approaching the deeper emotional layers of this story.

Here’s what I’ve been working on:

🔹 Tweaking Ezra’s Internal Conflicts

Ezra is growing, stepping into responsibility, and feeling torn between his father’s expectations, his own dreams, and the love he shares with Neri. I’ve been sharpening the moments where he questions himself, struggles to find balance, or wants to belong in both worlds. His emotional journey is becoming richer and more nuanced.

🔹 Deepening Grandmother Fatu’s Backstory

Her presence is becoming more powerful. I’ve been exploring:

  • how she shaped Ezra’s childhood,
  • her connection to the tidewalker world,
  • the truth behind the shell she gave him,
  • and how her story ties both worlds together in ways Ezra is only beginning to understand.

🔹 Building Tension Between the Two Worlds

This has been one of my favorite parts to develop. The differences and misunderstandings between Neri’s world and Ezra’s — the traditions, expectations, and pressures — are all becoming clearer and more dramatic. This tension will shape much of Book Two’s conflict.

What’s Coming in Early 2026

Writing this book feels like saying “yes” to myself — yes to imagination, yes to creativity, yes to finishing something that matters deeply to me.

In early 2026, I’ll be sharing:

  • sneak peeks of new characters,
  • more world-building details,
  • and updates as the story evolves and the two worlds collide.

If December has taught me anything, it’s that growth happens when we stop waiting for fear to settle — and move forward anyway.

October Book Club | Reflections on The Untethered Soul by Lulu Lee
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October Book Club | Reflections on The Untethered Soul by Lulu Lee

Lulu LeeLeave a comment

📚 October Book Club: Reflections on The Untethered Soul by Michael A. Singer

🌸 Discovering The Untethered Soul

Every so often, a book finds you exactly when you need it most. For me, that book was The Untethered Soul by Michael A. Singer. I picked it up during a season when I was craving peace — not the kind that comes from everything being perfect, but the kind that comes from acceptance, presence, and release.

This book isn’t about fixing yourself; it’s about learning to let go — to release old pain, quiet the constant noise of the mind, and step into a state of inner freedom. Singer invites us to see our thoughts and emotions as passing experiences, not permanent truths. The more we allow them to flow without resistance, the more peace we uncover within ourselves.

📖 A Brief Summary

In The Untethered Soul, Michael A. Singer explores what it means to truly be free — not just externally, but internally. Through gentle wisdom and practical insight, he guides readers to recognize the voice inside their head, observe it without judgment, and stop identifying with it as their “self.”

He teaches that true peace doesn’t come from controlling life, but from surrendering to it. By loosening our grip on pain, fear, and expectation, we can begin to live with open hearts and unshakable calm — no matter what’s happening around us.

You can find the book here:
👉 The Untethered Soul by Michael A. Singer on Amazon
🎧 Also available as an audiobook on Audible for those who prefer to listen.

🌿 My Reflection: Learning to Let Go

Reading this book has been a turning point in my healing journey. It’s helped me see that holding onto old pain only keeps me stuck in the same patterns — replaying stories that no longer serve me. Singer’s words reminded me that peace isn’t something to chase; it’s something we uncover once we stop resisting life as it unfolds.

I’ve started noticing my thoughts more — catching myself before getting swept away by worry or judgment. When I feel tension rising, I pause, breathe, and remind myself to soften, to let it pass through.

This practice has changed how I move through each day. Whether I’m journaling before bed, running in the early morning light, or tending to my garden, I carry this quiet awareness:
I am not my thoughts. I am the one who observes them.

That realization alone has brought me so much freedom.

🌼 How It’s Helping Me Grow

Healing is not about erasing the past; it’s about learning to hold it gently, without letting it define who you are now. The Untethered Soul has helped me make peace with what once felt heavy.

I’m learning that growth isn’t always about doing more — it’s often about releasing what no longer belongs. Just like in my garden, I’ve learned to prune back what’s overgrown, to make room for new life.

The more I release, the lighter I feel — and the more space I have for joy, creativity, and stillness.

💭 Reflection Prompt for Readers

Have you ever read a book that arrived in your life at just the right time?
What lesson or truth from it helped you let go, grow, or find peace within yourself?

Share your reflections in the comments — I’d love to hear what stories are helping you heal and bloom. 🌿

Book Club

Spotlight on a Poem: Together

Lulu LeeLeave a comment

The power of words

When I write, I am not alone. My words are carried by voices that came before me—the ancestors, the marchers, the mothers, the dreamers. Every poem I create is born out of this truth: we do not endure in isolation, but together.

One of the poems in my upcoming collection is titled “Together.” It’s a piece that reminds me how survival has never been the story of one, but of many. It weaves memory, history, and the shared strength that has allowed us to move forward as a people.

An Excerpt from “Together”

From the villages of our ancestors,
from the ships that tried to swallow us,
from the fields and the cities,
the marches and the prayers—
we have endured.

The Story Behind the Poem

I wrote “Together” while reflecting on the continuity of struggle and resilience. I thought about how the past lives in us. The journey from the shores of Africa to the present day has been marked by unimaginable trials. It has also been marked by courage and faith.

This poem came to me as a chorus of voices, echoing across time. It’s about remembering that our strength is collective, that we’ve always leaned on one another, even in the darkest moments.

Why This Poem Matters

“Proud” marked the beginning of my journey into poetry. “Together” represents what I’ve come to understand more deeply over time. Survival is not just individual. It is communal. We are bound by shared memory, and it is in that binding that we find resilience.

In my collection of 40 poems, each piece speaks to a different facet of that legacy—pain, defiance, beauty, survival. But “Together” is one of the poems that most clearly says: we are still here.

A Journey Shared

This poem, like the others, is part of a larger journey toward wholeness. It reminds me that writing is not only a personal act. It is also a communal offering. It serves as an invitation to remember, to heal, and to celebrate resilience.

I hope “Together” resonates with you as much as it does with me. I invite you to stay with me. I will continue sharing these poems. One story, one heartbeat, at a time.