i acknowledge

your sacrifice.

your commitment

to justice–

to truth.

which seems

to be lost

in the hubbub

of ‘the game’

and things so much

less important.

but you stand

next to the greats

such as

Ms. Rosa Parks,


Mahatma Ghandi,

in your practice

of peaceful protest.

it is

for this

you are being punished.

while others continue

to serve and forget

it is you

who have pledged

yourself to life

and its importance

while the less observant masses

buy snacks

and plan game-day parties.

it is you

who could easily

cut your hair

and sire children

who would never

be seen as even brown.

yet you

do not.

you refuse to stand in the presence

of murder

and honor the flag

that flies over a land filled

with conflict.

I honor your sacrifice

and i will eschew

the ‘national holiday’

that has become the day of

‘The Big Game’.

rather, i will stand with you, Colin;

i will, in irony, eat guacamole, salsa and chips

and read a book.

while Congress fights over

‘the wall’

and while my ‘home team’

runs the field

oblivious to the usury

they incur;

amidst the fanfare and lager


will be cheering

for us,

for you.
Linda Tauhid



Sunday Bucket List

i’d like to make

the circumambulations

of Hajj

and pray

at the Prophet’s (SAW) Mosque;

i’d like to drive from Boston

to Maine in summer

and have a coastal meal;

i’d like to walk Lake Merritt,

healed and whole…

i’d like to go

to Newport

to the jazz festival 

and wear a floral summer dress

and a wide-brimmed hat,

sit under the sun and relax.

I’d like to visit Marseille again

and soak my feet in the water

of the Mediterranean Sea.

and maybe i’d just enjoy

the lift-off and landing

of a plane going anywhere.

i’d like to see a concert

at the Red Rocks Amphitheater

and dance to some reggae

in a Nairobi dance hall.

I’d like a vacation home

in Maputo

and a hut on the Indian Ocean.

i’d like to eat dinner in Italy,

traipse through Spain…

i’d like to meet a nice Irish boy

or maybe a Jewish boy or African

with money and who loves to travel;

we would go ’round the world

turning heads

and laughing

all the way. 

and maybe my bucket list

for this year

would be complete,

my family well

and smiling

at my

post cards.
Linda Tauhid



it’s just that

my heart

has been dozing

and a word

from you

awoke me…

random and welcome

a moment’s interaction

has me thinking,


and wondering

what I’m doing here

wandering alone…

for so long.

life is pointless

without love

it’s breath, it’s touch

It’s warming embrace.

i don’t know what will become of me:

ashes, dust…

but while i live

I hope for love


another glance



Linda Tauhid


New Year Musings…

I celebrate New Year on January first of the Gregorian calendar as well as the lunar (Islamic) new year. Each one brings different practices and celebrations.

Earlier, as I was cooking my black-eyed peas, an African American New Year’s tradition, I was reminded of the time I was traveling across the African continent and had a stop-over in Lagos, Nigeria. I implored one of my fellow travelers who I recognized from the conference I had just attended to help me find a place to stay since I would be in town for a day and not flying until late evening. She very graciously took me home to her family home.

Because her family was celebrating her visit they made a special dish made out of black-eyed peas. The skins are removed and the beans are made into a spicy paste-like meal that was hot and delicious! The hostess told me how they manually remove the skins and I was amazed.

After a short stay, I left Lagos with sand of the local beach in my shoes and memories of a graciously hosted visit.

I don’t know the name of the black-eyed pea dish that I had in Lagos, but I have since had it back here in the States. When I was telling the cook how I had enjoyed this dish in situ in her country she shrugged and said ” we use a food processor here.”

My mothers always prepared black-eyed peas for New Year with the traditional saying that they bring good luck in the new year. I have brought my recipe into the twenty first century where I avoid animal products and processed salts. I stick with simple savory spices and often have the interesting looking peas over lettuce in a salad.

Aside from that health oriented innovation, I am as my mothers were: committed, hard-working, and generous of heart and spirit. I certainly have had more expansive opportunities them them: world travel, advanced education, and interfaces with many diverse cultures. I remain, though, much the same as them. I look like them, I cook like them and I will never close the space in my front teeth as my African foremothers never would.

And as for luck, I am truly blessed; still living and hoping for all of the good things in life. I wish that as well for those I know and love and for those random souls who read my words and hear my voice: “Happy New Year” and have some black-eyed peas.

Linda Tauhid


the fireworks of Christmas

are sounding 

the celebration

is nigh…

we need more love,

we humans;

in our hearts,

in our faces,

in our deeds;

how do we ignore

each other’s stories

and walk so blindly

on our way?

hating others,

thinking less of them…

not sharing our joy

our hopes, our human pain

in any meaningful way.

life is a miracle,

a precious grant;

Jesus the Christ

is a word,

a sign of hope and love;

a story,

a reality,

a gift

from The Creator’s


a link in the chain


His Love.
Linda Tauhid


For Nancy Wilson

she lives!

in exuberance,

soul and passion.

she lives

through song

and it’s touch…

in the vibration

of bass, piano and drum

she lives

In African church rhythms

and jazzy vocal stylings;

how vast-I did not know…

we traveled the same times

in different ways

we come from similar etchings

and return

to diverse


she lives!

Linda Tauhid




sang me

through sadness

and the hardest

of times.

her voice, plaintive and strong

her lyrics purposeful 

and true…

“I Think it’s Going to Rain Today”

the poems I’ve written

for her

permeate the decades

on lost and discarded yellowed papers

on scraps and envelopes

and forgotten notebooks.

but every time

i hear her voice

i am reminded of that time

and many others

when healing came through 

the Spirit in song

and Jimmy Webb

spoke through Roberta Flack:

of his “Wild Sweet Love”

and the words of

requiem 820 latham 

and i knew I was not alone

in love


in pain.
Linda Tauhid