If heaven is for real and not a thing made up,
I hope to make it there with all my broken parts.

If hell is for real and not a tale of control,
I hope mercy will suffice to save my scarlet soul.

If heaven is for real and only for the purified,
I dare hope to make the cut among those counted sanctified.

If hell is for real with fires burning loud, relentless, merciless and tall,
I hope God will hear my beggar’s plea and by love, break my fall.

If heaven is for real and not a definite maybe,
I hope He remembers the mustard seed; and be pleased enough to save me.

If hell is for real and is not God’s will for man,
Then in my life, may only God’s will be done.

If heaven is for real and God wills it to be my home,
Then I hope to make it there: first broken, then healed and whole.


©RK Nyra




It’s aaaaaaaaaaalright to celebrate yourself!

I have come to learn that everyone in life has faced their share of battles…you win some, you lose some, life goes on…c’est la vie. If you won’t pause to enjoy the spoils of this battle, you will usually not have enough strength to endure the next battle. I have also realized that most of us don’t necessarily know how to celebrate our little victories. The norm is to be a bit too hard on ourselves when we have missed the mark or not reached a certain expectation. Whether it’s at home, school, work, or out there with friends, we have a certain heightened sensitivity to “how we failed to do this or that right” or “how we blundered that part of the speech/deal/game…etc.” We’re often so much focused on the missed mark that we fail to appreciate the bits that went well.

Don’t get me wrong: it is healthy to analyze the “what and how” to improve; what is unhealthy is focusing so much on it that, we fail to appreciate what is already good/excellent.

So go ahead and smile when you win even in what you would consider a “small win”,

Pat yourself on the back, heck even do a little victory dance if you will,

Do it for yourself, that inner man/woman that you could be breaking or building,

And for that little kid that you could be influencing.

Pause and enjoy the spoils of the battle that you won,

For all you know, that little celebration could be the all source of your strength to go on!

© Rk Nyra
July 2016 Musings


We are all a little broken, and that’s okay


We all have secrets, some in pleasure and some in pain,
And we all have scars, some held in pride and some hidden in shame,

We all have that one thing that makes us so afraid,
That if revealed would earn us the titles “unworthy and frail”,

And make our survival in this world to be all in vain,

We are all a little broken, and that’s okay,
Some so visibly and some only slightly so,

But broken still, sometimes we try to hide our pain,
Like with smiles and laughter and dancing in the rain,

But underneath we feel the truth, it always remains…

We ought to wear some of our brokenness with honor and pride
Like a winner’s medal after making it through the rough tide,

To let the pain know that we remember and we won
And more so, to let others know, they’re not alone,

And that sometimes it’s okay to be a little broken, a little torn…

So here are my medals, my battle scars…

…ok, maybe another day for those medals…
~Rk Nyra~


Firebird: Always walk on the clouds

Once upon a time, in a land still unnamed
Lived a little oriole, Firebird was his name

He lived for the sunshine; he’d soak in it for hours
But when the storms would come, his joy would be devoured

He’d always ask momma why, God allowed the rains
To do such an awful thing, as take the sun away

His momma, always with a smile, would look at him and say
“You’ll surely find the truth, when you walk on clouds someday”


One day a storm rolled in; the biggest of them all

And this time momma’s answer was unlike the one before

“You’ve got to see it for yourself, my little Firebird, you see
Because it’s up there waiting, waiting for you” said she…


Now little Firebird was scared; his wings weren’t very often flown
Yet with hope, he flapped and flew; right to the great unknown…


Lightning and thunder and the wind, brought Firebird much fright
For they struck and roared and howled, with such great force and might

Little Firebird was scared, and thought he should turn back
For the loud and scary storm would surely rip him apart…


But just before he could turn back, almost all of a sudden
Amidst the roars and thunder cracks, right there right then it happened…

He broke through the clouds! And right before his eyes
Was a view more beautiful than ever; of majestic sunlit skies!


And in that very moment, it all became clear as day
That no rain or storm or such, would ever take the sun away!

That constant as his mother’s love, the sun was always shining
He just needed that walk on the clouds, to find a truth worth finding!


There’s always a sunlit sky
Above those heavy thunderstorms…
A promise beyond the human eye
And Love that’s unconditional.


#John 3:16

© Rk Nyra 2016
~Inspired by Firebird, short-story in Unconditional_the_movie~

Never by chance: I know that was You!

That surge of strength that you “suddenly” muster,

That rush of compassion that overwhelms you,

That deep conviction that pulls you closer,

To what is alive, right, noble and true…

It’s never coincidence,

It’s never by chance,

Some of those experiences,

That we credit to “Fate’s Hands”…

Those moments that you undoubtedly know,

That a Bigger Power was in play,

Thank you momma for the seeds you sowed,

Thank you God for when momma prayed.



©Rk Nyra


Pointing fingers is as easy as a hobby for most

Some raise others and shamefully dare to boast

­Their judgments based on fictional facts

They rush into hasty irrational acts

They say that it’s “taking law into their hands”

But I think it’s more like “taking LIFE with their bare hands”!!

.  .  .

Yesterday they ganged on me with machetes and stones

Hacked my head and limbs and broke my bones

A voice in the angry mob asked “kwani huyu ame-do?”

The man wielding a machete replied “me sijui. Nimepata akichapwa tu”

“Mwizi!! Mwizi!!”  Retorted the crowd

As I writhed in agony on the blood-filled ground

They began to shout, “Lynch the man!!”

I cried and pleaded, “I’m not the one”

Even in this economic estate, so adverse and dire

Someone generously provided paraffin to put me on fire!!

Bylaws created by a heartless environment

After my death, they discovered I was innocent!!!

~RK Nyra~