Welcome, loves, to the P’osies Cafe Series, a new gathering for lovers of language and narrative. Our name, a playful blend of “Poetry” and “Stories,” perfectly captures the essence of what we’re about. In this series, my best friend and fellow writer will join me at our writers’ cafe with our laptops, pens and paper, and a couple of iced mochas or chai lattes. We’ll be sharing our own work—from whispered verse to sprawling tales—and we invite you to listen, reflect, and get lost in the power of storytelling.
Today at the cafe, we have part two of A New Hope, written by Saneatra Polk. So, come on in and enjoy. Without further ado:
A New Hope Pt. 2 (c) 2025
Have you ever wanted to give up simply because you couldn’t see the bigger picture? That’s how I felt the further I walked east. There are fewer camps. The world around me turned into nothing but dust and the occasional flicker of sun or moon through the haze.
The voices were still with me, but quieter now—like they were watching to make sure I kept going. I still didn’t know why I was being sent so far, just that I was obeying.
Traveling east felt like climbing a mountain made of ruins. Old skyscrapers had collapsed into jagged hills of metal, glass, and concrete. Even with the abilities I got from the bioweapon attack—speed, heightened senses—the journey wore me down. No water. No posies. I wasn’t sure I’d make it much longer.
Then I saw it—a beam of light shooting from the ground into the sky.
One of them approached me and said someone was waiting to see me. A girl from the orphanage. Like me, she survived the biochemical blast. But instead of speed and voices, she came out of it blind… and able to see the future.
She couldn’t see me with her eyes, but she recognized me immediately in the spirit. She told me I had to keep going, no matter how hard it became. She said a message was waiting inside the box I’d been sent to find, and that I was the one who had to deliver it to the people.
The weight of it hit me: Why me? What made me worthy of carrying something meant for the world?
The Sky People gave me water and posies. Before I left, they told me that if I continued in the same direction, I would reach the Green People—and they would strengthen me for what comes next.
When I walked away from their camp, I carried something I didn’t have when I arrived: a sense of purpose. For the first time, I started to believe… maybe I really was chosen.
Have you ever felt like giving up—only to find unexpected strength or help right when you needed it most?
Welcome to my Persevere Series. God has been teaching me that perseverance is less about how strong I am and more about how faithful He is. Through these posts, I want to encourage you to keep going, trust His timing, and remember that even small steps count. Perseverance isn’t about perfection — it’s about leaning on God’s strength in every season, whether you’re walking, crawling, or getting back up after a fall.
Reflection:
Have you ever tried to run for a bus with your hands full, hoping nothing spills or falls out of your bag? I have, and sometimes I would miss the bus altogether. Sometimes it was because I didn’t leave on time, and other times because the bus arrived earlier than expected. But one thing I’ve noticed: the run is always easier when I’m carrying less.
That’s how it is in life and in our faith. When we’re weighed down by stress, fear, distractions, worries—or even sin—those weights slow us down. They drain our motivation. They cloud our focus. They make it hard to obey God, to see clearly, and to walk unashamed.
But thank God for Jesus! When we pause and place our burdens in the hands of the loving Savior, the One who both initiates and perfects our faith, He gives us the strength to persevere. He doesn’t just help us carry the load, He offers us an exchange: His yoke for ours. And His is easy, His burden is light.
If you haven’t yet made Jesus Christ your Lord and Savior, I encourage you to do so today. I can testify that even in life’s storms, He has never left me nor forsaken me. He is always near, ready to help and comfort us.
Scripture:
Hebrews 12:1–2 (NLT)
“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us. We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, the champion who initiates and perfects our faith. Because of the joy awaiting Him, He endured the cross, disregarding its shame. Now, He is seated in the place of honor beside God’s throne.”
Prayer:
Father God, Forgive us for holding onto what You’ve asked us to release. Forgive us for the sin that so easily entangles us. Thank You for Your mercy, for Your forgiveness, and for Your unfailing love. Thank You for the grace that enables us to run with endurance the race You’ve set before us. Help us fix our eyes on Jesus, never ashamed to bring Him every concern of our hearts. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Happy Fall Season!!!!! Did you grab your favorite coffee, iced coffee, or chai tea this morning? Well, if you did, make sure you also check out writers, Saneatra Polk and Tannika Nikeya. They’re serving up poems and stories, creativity, encouragement, and inspiration.
📖☕️ So come On In! Dive into the Posies Cafe Series on YouTube as well as our other platforms for captivating short stories & poems. And stay tuned for this Friday’s new post. You don’t want to miss it!
Facebook and Instagram Saneatra polk TikTok Saneatrap
Welcome, loves, to the P’osies Cafe Series, a new gathering for lovers of language and narrative. Our name, a playful blend of “Poetry” and “Stories,” perfectly captures the essence of what we’re about. In this series, my best friend and fellow writer will join me at our writers’ cafe with our laptops, pens and paper, and a couple of iced mochas or chai lattes. We’ll be sharing our own work—from whispered verse to sprawling tales—and we invite you to listen, reflect, and get lost in the power of storytelling. Think of this as your favorite local cafe, but instead of coffee, the aroma is of fresh ink and well-worn pages. Pull up a chair, get comfortable, and let’s get started. We’re thrilled you’re here.
Today at the P’osies Cafe, we have a poem titled Invisible Tears (c) 2025, written by Tannika Nikeya. Without further ado:
With every invisible tear, she poured out her pain, letting their silence disappear within the drops of the rain. Her eyes filled with disappointment, her heart with grief, she promised the little girl within, one day she’d find relief.
She cradled her dreams in her arms, But with the blink of an eye, they disappeared. With every step she took, she feared, until the fog finally cleared. Sometimes victory waited on the other side, at other times, there was none. She felt stuck, yearning for things time could not give. She began to shrink back when it was her time to live.
But in the midst of it all, her tears reached her Father’s heart. He collected each one from the start. He hovered over her like a drone, when she was in crowded rooms and still felt alone.
He was near, closer than her shadow and her breath. He revived her and gave her life when she wanted to choose death.
When her heart was shattered, And she believed the lie she didn’t matter, when she felt overwhelmed and not good enough, when things get tough, and her sight nags her so, her father reminds her to walk by faith, to be still, and to know That He is God.
He helps her to grow and to heal, and yet, still, He helps her to grieve the self she left behind, and the losses she endures, no matter how hard she grinds. The “what if it never,” And the decisions far from clever, Far from wisdom.
Yet His words and His grace strengthen her faith. Because as complex as life is, her future will still be great. Her destiny fulfilled, She will be all that her younger self could never imagine, and the Father will help her understand it is because He can and He will.
And she will believe– wholeheartedly. Nothing lost. Nothing late. She’s been through hell, but she will be alright, because her Father is great.
He is faithful and trustworthy. He will never let her down. His word does not return to Him void. In it, truth can be found.
And she will believe,
wholeheartedly.
Accompanying Video:
Which line of this poem speaks most to your heart today?
Welcome to my Persevere Series. God has been teaching me that perseverance is less about how strong I am and more about how faithful He is. Through these posts, I want to encourage you to keep going, trust His timing, and remember that even small steps count. Perseverance isn’t about perfection — it’s about leaning on God’s strength in every season, whether you’re walking, crawling, or rising again.
Reflection
I don’t know if I’ve defined “persevere” in our previous Persevere Series posts, but it’s crucial to understand what it means. According to Google, persevere means “to continue in a course of action even in the face of difficulty or with little or no prospect of success.”
Perseverance looks like crawling in faith, taking one day at a time, abandoning perfection, and trusting God. It is leaning into His wisdom, doing things in His strength, and walking in His grace.
But perseverance isn’t always about pushing through, especially when you are sick, overworked, or struggling mentally and spiritually. Sometimes, God calls us to be still and know that He is God. Perseverance can also mean resting in His wisdom and power—allowing Him to restore us, as He did for Elijah (1 Kings 19:3-8). He leads us beside still waters and lets us rest in green meadows.
When God calls us to rest, it isn’t about sleeping all day, but about being intentional with your day—doing things that bring you joy, align with your purpose, and keep you in fellowship with God, yourself, or others. It is also an invitation to abide in Him and to trust Him, even with the unknown. In that rest, He restores and replenishes us—equipping us to face another day, another victory to be won, another storm to endure, and another test to be transformed into a testimony.
Rest clears the clutter in our minds, renews our rhythm, strengthens our bodies, and refreshes our spirits. Rest even allows us to be more productive—because it aligns us with God’s pace, not the world’s pressure.
So, on the days you feel like you must chase perfection and stay busy, answer God’s call to rest. When boundaries, purpose, and God’s presence feel lost in the noise of busyness, pause. Be still. Let God cover you with His love, fill you with His peace, and renew you with His fellowship.
In His rest, you’ll rise rejuvenated—ready to walk in purpose, live with clarity, and stand as more than a conqueror.
Scripture
“Be still, and know that I am God.” – Psalm 46:10
“He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside quiet waters, He restores my soul.” – Psalm 23:2-3
Prayer
Father God, thank You for Your peace and Your restoration. Thank You that Your love gives me the grace to face each new day and the rest I need. Help me to abide in You as You abide in me. Show me when and how to rest. Help me lean not on my own understanding but to trust You with all my heart. Keep me from filling my days with busyness or striving to please others. Teach me to be still and know that You are God: the One who loves me beyond measure and sustains me daily. I choose to rest in the richness of Your love and provision. In Jesus’ name, amen.
Welcome, loves, to the P’osies Cafe Series, a new gathering for lovers of language and narrative. Our name, a playful blend of “Poetry” and “Stories,” perfectly captures the essence of what we’re about. In this series, my best friend and fellow writer will join me at our writers’ cafe with our laptops, pens and paper, and a couple of iced mochas or chai lattes. We’ll be sharing our own work—from whispered verse to sprawling tales—and we invite you to listen, reflect, and get lost in the power of storytelling.
Today, we have an awesome story by my bestie, Saneatra Polk. So come on in and have a sip of suspense and your favorite coffee!!!!
A New Hope Pt 1 (c) 2025
Have you ever felt pulled in a direction you couldn’t explain—like a whisper from God, or the weight of something greater than yourself? That’s how the voices came to Zayah. For weeks, they urged her to go east, toward a gold box hidden in the wasteland. She tried to drown them out with the bass of her battered CD player, but the voices grew stronger—until the music itself refused to play.
Zayah crawled from her tent. The air was heavy with dust, glowing orange under a pale white sun that looked more like fire than light. All around her, people emerged from tents, their eyes set on the rubble field where they would spend the day digging for scraps. Scraps meant survival—a doughy posie to chew, maybe a sip of water, maybe tea if luck was kind.
Zayah slung her knapsack over her shoulder, but instead of joining the slow line of scavengers, she turned the other way. Her heartbeat was fast. If anyone noticed, they’d ask questions, maybe follow her. They couldn’t know she had the power to sense treasures in the rubble, or that the voices had chosen her. They couldn’t know she was leaving it all behind.
East meant desert. East meant danger. East might mean nothing at all.
But Zayah took one last bite of her posie, tasting sugar and dust on her tongue. She pulled a strip of cloth across her mouth and nose for protection against the dust and stepped forward into the unknown.
Welcome, loves, to the P’osies Cafe Series, a new gathering for lovers of language and narrative. Our name, a playful blend of “Poetry” and “Stories,” perfectly captures the essence of what we’re about. In this series, my best friend and fellow writer will join me at our writers’ cafe with our laptops, pens and paper, and a couple of iced mochas or chai lattes. We’ll be sharing our own work—from whispered verse to sprawling tales—and we invite you to listen, reflect, and get lost in the power of storytelling.
What Is Lingering (c) 2025
By Tannika Nikeya
It was another late night at the office, but Angela didn’t mind. She thrived in the silence—free from constant interruptions, free from Alison’s mile-a-minute chatter about boyfriends, politics, and vacations. Angela liked people, but conversations like that drained her, leaving her overwhelmed and overstimulated.
Being alone at her desk and immersed in her work was bliss, however, because it kept her busy. Her thoughts didn’t seem to be all over the place.
Angela buried herself in her tasks—not because she lacked a life, but because she loved the craft of marketing. Research, strategy, and planning were her passions. She aimed for perfection in every campaign, and each presentation sent her stomach into knots. Her mind raced beforehand, her body tensed—headaches, restlessness, sweaty palms, an upset stomach that sometimes lasted for days. Each time, she wondered if this presentation would be her last, the one to ruin everything she’d worked for. Somehow, she always made it through, only to start the cycle again with the next presentation.
By 6:30, the sun had long since clocked out. Angela sipped the last of her warm chai tea—her daily lunch staple, which also did wonders for her queasy stomach. She packed up her files, slipped them into her beloved bookbag (she preferred it over a stiff briefcase), and wiped down her desk in her daily Lysol ritual.
Coat on, bag slung over her shoulder, she stepped into the cold.
Downtown Chicago greeted her with sharp air and quiet streets. A few stragglers hurried by, their breath forming little clouds in the moonlight.
Angela walked quickly, three blocks to the Red Line. The Red Line was not for the faint of heart. At certain times, it was super crowded—noisy teens, someone smoking on the train, unusual smells, and uncanny individuals. It was often reported as dangerous, either by the news or even Chicago residents. But Angela was a native, and she loved Chicago. And although she felt a level of comfort in the familiar chaos, she stayed alert. Some of the other riders—never too many unless there was an event—had become familiar faces. Like her, they were just trying to get home after a long day’s work.
Her long black hair peeked out from her winter hat as the train pulled in. She stepped aboard and immediately sat down near the doors. Usually, she rode up front with the conductor, but tonight, fatigue made her careless. Her stomach churned from the cream-of-mushroom soup and Caesar chicken wrap she had eaten for lunch.
At first, the train car was empty. She scrolled her phone, glanced at the tunnel ads reflected in the glass, then back down. That’s when she felt it—someone else. She looked up and froze.
A woman sat at the rear of the train car. Long black hair, stiff posture, eyes fixed straight ahead. For a moment, Angela’s chest tightened.
The woman began sliding down the seat. Angela’s pulse quickened. “Hey—are you okay?” she called.
But when she rushed down the aisle—there was no one there. Am I seeing things? Am I just exhausted?
The lights flickered. The train jerked to a stop. Angela stumbled off at her station, heart thudding. Usually, a few people got off with her, but tonight the platform stretched empty. Too empty.
From the corner of her eye—movement. The same woman stepped behind a subway beam.
“Hello?” Angela called. Silence.
Her instincts screamed “don’t be that girl in the scary movies,” but footsteps suddenly rushed behind her. She bolted toward the escalator—only to be grabbed.
Angela spun around, ready to fight, but it was just a bewildered homeless man. “Here you go, ma’am. You dropped this,” he said, handing her the black-and-gold water bottle her best friend had given her. Shaken, she thanked him and hurried up the escalator. The man was gone when she looked back.
At the top of the escalator, she saw her, the woman, turning her head slowly toward her.
Angela’s skin prickled as the escalator kept going up. Angela forced herself upward, and when she reached the top—nothing. No one.
She walked the blocks to her apartment, trying to shake the dread. But on the stairwell inside the building, the sound of footsteps echoed behind her. Slowly and fearfully, she looked down.
Through the window at the bottom of the stairs, she saw the woman again—head bowed. When Angela blinked, the steps were empty. But the reflection in the glass…
The woman looked up. And she had Angela’s face.
Angela staggered back, her heart pounding. A quiet thought rose in her mind: Maybe I’m just exhausted. Maybe it’s all in my head.
Panting, she rushed inside her apartment and bolted the door. She managed to inhale a few breaths and released them slowly. And then she repeated her new coping mantra:
“He did not give me a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind. He did not give me a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind.”
Inside her bathroom, she filled a small cup with water and swallowed her medication. She steadied her breath, watching herself in the mirror—slower, calmer. Phone in hand, she called her mom for prayer. Fear would not claim her. Not tonight. She would face the recurring dread—steady, present, unafraid. Yet in the mirror, her reflection lingered, watching her breathe.
What do you think was really lingering? ☕📖 Share your thoughts below.
Video:
Prayer
Father God,
I lift up anyone who is dealing with mental struggles or battling mental illness. I ask that You grant them grace and courage to seek the support and even the medical help they need. Day by day, strengthen them to overcome. Reveal the root cause of their struggle—both naturally and spiritually—and bring healing in the hidden places.
Lord, Your Word declares, “For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind” (2 Timothy 1:7). Help us not to embrace fear as our identity but to stand firmly in the power and peace You freely give.
Your Word also reminds us that “the weapons of our warfare are not carnal but mighty in God for pulling down strongholds” (2 Corinthians 10:4). So, in Jesus’ name, we pull down every stronghold of fear, depression, anxiety, and confusion. We take every thought captive and make it obedient to Christ (2 Corinthians 10:5).
Let us hear Your Word for faith comes by hearing and hearing by Your Word. Father, we trust Your promise that He who is in us is greater than he who is in the world (1 John 4:4). Deliver us from the evil one, and remind us daily that Your power is greater than any force in this world.
We seal this prayer in the mighty and matchless name of Jesus. Amen.
I’m charged up and ready to write! This evening, while I fast tv, I am going to do some reading (just a bit) and writing (just a lot). I am excited because after having experienced writer’s block in my writing journey, lately, I have been flowing. God has graced me to crank out either a blog post here or a poem or song there. And now I’m back to writing short stories.
Oh, I forgot to mention: I will be writing while eating me some Chinese food. My favorite Shrimp Egg Foo Young and Shrimp Fried Rice.
I am additionally working on new pieces for a new series titled Persevere and an additional collaborative series with my bestie titled P’osies Cafe.
Welcome, loves, to the P’osies Cafe Series, a new gathering for lovers of language and narrative. Our name, a playful blend of “Poetry” and “Stories,” perfectly captures the essence of what we’re about.
In this series, my best friend, Saneatra, and fellow writer will join me at our virtual writers’ cafe with our laptops, pens, and paper, and a couple of iced mochas or chai lattes.
We’ll be sharing our own work—from whispered verse to sprawling tales—and we invite you to listen, reflect, and get lost in the power of storytelling.
Think of this as your favorite local cafe, but instead of coffee, the aroma is of fresh ink and well-worn pages. Pull up a chair, get comfortable, and let’s get started. We’re thrilled you’re here.
Stay tuned for our first work of this series!!! In the meantime, check out my bestie on Facebook and Instagram: Saneatra polk as well as on TikTok, Saneatrap.
Welcome to my Persevere Series. God has been teaching me that perseverance is less about how strong I am and more about how faithful He is. Through these posts, I want to encourage you to keep going, trust His timing, and remember that even small steps count. Perseverance isn’t about perfection — it’s about leaning on God’s strength in every season, whether you’re walking, crawling, or rising again.”
Reflection
Trials are never easy to endure. The pressure, fear, frustration, discomfort, grief, and worry can make anyone feel like giving up. But let us be encouraged: the testing of our faith produces perseverance. When we choose to walk by faith and not by sight, we are strengthened to press forward. As we hold fast to His Word and promises, we build both resilience and deeper trust in God.
One thing we must always remember is this: whether we are facing a trial or navigating a storm, we can not persevere without God Himself. It is His strength and His Spirit that lift us up and enable us to keep going.
Scripture
“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” —James 1:2–4 (NIV)
Prayer
Father God, Grant us the grace to navigate the storms and trials of our lives. Cover us with the blood of Jesus, and remind us that we can do all things through Christ who strengthens us. Help us to persevere with joy, for the joy of the Lord is our strength. In Jesus’ name, amen.
Tannika Nikeya 