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Jam Writes

Where feelings meet metaphors and make questionable choices.

about

A wanderer at heart, an artist by hand and a writer by soul. Hi! I am JAM. This space is my home between homes, where words, art and wonder meet. I write about things that linger. The way stories live in people, the way poetry breathes between the days and how we keep learning what it means to be alive.

Rose Tinted Light

January 24, 2026

Rose-tinted light upon my eyes,
not blind to pain—just slow to lies.

They say the ones hurt will always harm,
Yet I pass the fire, to keep you warm,
I could never quite agree—
if I was cut, why would I want you to bleed?

So here I stand, feet on strange land,
learning truths I hadn’t planned,
a world I don’t yet understand,
yet still… I stand. Still… I am.

The sea reminds me how to breathe,
sunlight threading through the leaves,
bees hum secrets soft and low,
birds play tag where wild winds go.
Morning dew steals words from me,
dawn breaks glassed in clarity,
skies at dusk in painted flame,
snow-kissed pines all dressed in white,
chimney smoke and quiet nights.

Maybe it’s not all loss and scars,
maybe hope lives where we are,
in seasons shifting, not the same,
in staying soft without the shame.

I won’t trust blind—but I won’t flee,
I’ll trust with roots, I’ll trust with sight,
and if the world keeps testing me,
I’ll meet it drumbeat, heart upright.
The seasons turn. I feel it too.
Maybe I’ll stay.
Maybe… I grew.

JAM🙏🏻❤️‍🔥Love&Light
A Matter of Perspective

January 23, 2026

A matter of perspective—that’s all the world can be,
You and I, aligned just right, agreeing how we see.
Our souls don’t knot by destiny or stars that pre-decide,
We simply meet at eye level, walking side by side.
Connection isn’t magic dust or fate with grand decree,
It’s thoughtful conversation—call it philosophy.
Like money “growing” on the trees, or birds consulting bees,
It works because we understand the hows, not just the please.
And yes, there are still miracles that science hasn’t named,
Unseen equations humming where the wonder’s entertained.
We found each other, after all, on stone and dust and spin,
A floating rock hurtling through time—statistically thin.
So if there’s something worth belief when headlines shake the ground,
Believe that we’ll be just fine, still standing, still unbound.
No matter how the world may ache or beg for what it needs,
Perspective says: we’ll be okay—and that’s enough indeed.

JAM🙏🏻❤️‍🔥 Love&Light
We are the Line

January 23, 2026

We stand in the circle.
Fire at our feet.
Night above us.
Drum in the chest.

We are open.
We are afraid.
We are still here.
Woman to woman,
mother to daughter,
sister to sister—

we carry this knowing.
Our hearts stay open.
Our feet stay grounded.
Our bodies remember.

We have paid the cost.
We know the price.
Some lessons took years.
Some took blood.
Some took leaving.

Still—
we did not harden.

Still—
we did not disappear.

Soft does not mean broken.
Open does not mean unguarded.
Kind does not mean unarmed.

Say it again.
Soft does not mean broken.
Open does not mean unguarded.
Kind does not mean unarmed.

Our discernment is old.
Older than words.
It lives in the belly,
in the hips,
in the breath before yes,
in the tightening before no.

The body knows.
The body always knows.
When danger comes,
we widen our stance.

When fear speaks,
we lower our center.
When the line is crossed,
we stand.

Not alone.
Never alone.
We stand as women
who have loved deeply,
lost greatly,
and learned.

We stand for our daughters.
We stand for our mothers.
We stand for the ones
who could not.

Open-hearted.
Clear-eyed.
Still standing.
Lifting our voices.

There is a difference
between vulnerable
and unprotected.

We know the line.
We hold the line.
We are the line.

Vulnerability looks different on each of us.
How do you protect your open heart?

JAM🙏🏻❤️‍🔥 Love&Light
Cheaper than Therapy and way Messier

January 23, 2026

Elenca cinque cose che fai per divertimento.

Five things I do for fun:
1: Kicking booty on Mortal Kombat. Sometimes I win, sometimes I lose—but honestly, the real victory is laughing way too hard with the people I’m playing with. Fatality nah…more like bonding.

2: Learning new things. New recipes, new creative hobbies, a little tinkering here and there. If I’m experimenting in the kitchen or making something with my hands, I’m happy. Curiosity fuels my joy.

3: Murder-mystery audiobooks. My go-to while cleaning or walking. Headphones on, clues rolling in, me dramatically side-eyeing strangers like, “It was you, wasn’t it?”

4: Listening to music. Instant soul freedom. One song can reset my whole nervous system—no explanation needed.

5: Painting, of course. It’s the first thing I reach for when life feels overwhelming or when I just need a hit of joy. Cheaper than therapy… and way messier.

JAM🙏🏻❤️‍🔥
Ordinary to Extrodinary

January 17, 2026

A paintbrush alone
is just bone and bristle- ordinary,
wood cut from something that once stood in the sun,
hair that remembers an animal’s warmth.
It rests on the table,
smelling of oil and old water,
holding yesterday in its stiff mouth.
In a child’s hand
it moves like a first drum—
color spilled without apology,
palms stained,
the floor baptized in blue and red.
In the hands of one who remembers,
the brush carries weight.
Not just skill—
but grandmothers’ patience,
the calloused fingers of ancestors,
stories pressed into muscle.
It drags slowly,
as if listening to the earth beneath the canvas,
as if asking permission
before laying down truth.
Same brush.
Different lineage.
One hand is discovering the world.
The other is answering it—
with memory,
with warmth of the soul,
with the quiet courage
of those who painted, carved, cooked,
and survived before you which Is extrodinary.

JAM🙏🏻❤️‍🔥Love&Light
Midday Shoes & Midnight Flowers

January 17, 2026

Midday Shoes & Midnight Flowers
I got fire in my shoes,
they don’t ever want to run,
they just sway and shuffle
under that heavy midday sun.
Yeah, fire in my shoes,
they only know how to feel,
how to dance with what’s burning,
how to make the ache real.
I’m a midnight flower,
don’t bloom too soon, don’t rush the dark,
I wait for the quiet hours
when longing leaves its mark.
Love and loss taste the same,
when it comes to you,
sweet on the lips at first,
then it burns me through and through.
The house on the hill has a broken door,
never stayed shut right,
porch light flickers like it’s tired
of standing guard all night.
Footsteps cross the floor slow,
ghosts who know the way by heart,
only they know the truth
of where we fell apart.
Every prayer’s one breath away,
curling up in smoke,
wrapping itself around the moon
like a promise somebody broke.
Your shadow stayed
long after you were gone,
love keeps slipping through the seams of time
and I keep holding on.
You got a voice like velvet,
but your heart’s a quiet flame,
eyes soft and dark as midnight,
never look the same.
Every dream you touch,
yeah, I’ve seen them die,
but not mine, no not mine—
I still keep mine alive.

JAM🙏🏻❤️‍🔥Love&Light
Internal Clutter

January 16, 2026

Dove puoi ridurre il disordine nella tua vita?

Where can I reduce clutter in my life?
Materially, I live pretty simply.
No overflowing closets, no unnecessary things.
My clutter is more… internal.
It lives in my mind—old thoughts from the past,
sitting on mental shelves, collecting dust and spiderwebs,
apparently living rent free and refusing to move out.
They wait patiently for moments of joy,
only to pop up like an unwanted notification:
Careful. Don’t get too happy. Something unfortunate is probably loading.
This is the clutter I’m working on clearing.
Not by pretending the past didn’t happen,
but by reminding it that it no longer runs the building.
Joy doesn’t need a helmet.
And not every solid floor is about to fall from underneath my feet.

JAM🙏🏻❤️‍🔥Love&Light
Prime Real Estate

January 16, 2026

The body is not simply decoration.
It is of the land.
Prime real estate passed down
through bone memory and breath,
through women who carried fire in their ribs
and men who listened to the ground before they spoke.
This body remembers
even when the mind forgets.
It knows the language of seasons,
of hunger and rest,
of when to move
and when to stay.
Every thought that enters
leaves a footprint.
Every wound digs a small river.
Every act of love plants something
that may not bloom for years.
We are taught to abandon the body,
to sell it cheap,
to let noise, shame, and urgency
build on sacred land.
But this body was never empty terrain.
It is altar and shelter.
A place where grief sits by the fire
until it is ready to soften.
A place where joy drums the earth
and calls the spirit back home.
To tend the body
is to tend the ancestors.
To rest is not laziness—
it is listening.
To say no
is to protect the borders.
This land was meant to be inhabited
with care.
Not burned.
Not overrun.
Not conquered.
The body is prime real estate
because Spirit chose it.
Because life signed its name here with love
and in this love we are meant to repay in some small way.

JAM🙏🏻❤️‍🔥Love&Light
Voltage

January 16, 2026

For us creatives, the writers, musicians, artists,
It’s not about burning.
It’s about carrying voltage.
We were never meant
to be lit endlessly,
to consume ourselves
for the comfort of others.
We were made to pulse—
bright, then resting,
bright again—
like a heart that knows
when to hold
and when to release.
We translate feeling that have no language.
The unseen ache.
The holy tension.
The truth people feel
before they can name it.
We hold intensity
without collapsing,
stand inside the storm
without becoming it.
We are bridges—
between pain and meaning,
between silence and sound,
between what hurts
and what heals.
We wake people gently,
but unmistakably.
Not with fire that destroys,
but with light that remembers.
This is our work.
Not to burn out—
but to carry the current
and let it move through us
without breaking the vessel.

JAM🙏🏻❤️‍🔥Love&Light
The Strong Ones: The story of Mrs. Dee McGee

January 13, 2026

Mrs. Dee McGee was considered one of those we call the strong ones.
I say was, because she sadly and suddenly passed,
from the quiet burden of carrying everyone’s weight
plus her own.
Mrs. Dee McGee always did her very best to handle whatever life threw at her
with as much grace as she could muster.
Some days, she would cry alone in her room—
the kind of crying that leaves no sound,
only a heaviness behind the eyes—
and then she would wash her face, straighten her back,
and step back into the world
still willing to lend an ear to listen
and a shoulder to cry on.
People admired her for this.
They said things like,
“She’s so strong.”
“She always knows what to say.”
“She’s got it together.”
What they did not say—
what they did not ask—
was who listened to Mrs. Dee McGee
when the door was closed
and the room was quiet.
Life, as it tends to do, did not throw its misfortunes all at once.
It preferred a slower method.
A series of small disappointments.
Unreturned calls.
Responsibilities that multiplied without asking permission.
Losses that were never quite big enough
to justify falling apart publicly.
And so Mrs. Dee McGee did not fall apart.
She adjusted.
She made room.
She carried more.
She told herself, Just get through today.
When others stumbled, she steadied them.
When others broke, she held the pieces.
And when someone finally asked how she was doing,
she smiled politely and said,
“I’m okay.”
This answer was accepted immediately,
for it matched what everyone already believed.
You see, the strong ones are often trusted too much—
trusted to survive,
trusted to endure,
trusted not to need.
No one noticed that her laughter came a little later than it used to.
That her eyes lingered longer on nothing.
That her strength, once a flame,
had become a wick burning lower and lower.
And then one day,
Mrs. Dee McGee was gone.
People were shocked.
They said,
“I never would have guessed.”
“She didn’t seem like she was struggling.”
“She was always so strong.”
What they meant was:
She never asked us to see her.

Moral
Strength should never require invisibility.
Check on the ones who carry everyone.
Listen past the smile.
And if you are one of the strong ones—
remember:
you are allowed to set the weight down
before it breaks you.

JAM🙏🏻❤️‍🔥Love&Light