I met today’s special guest over the summer at an event for a brand launch. We got to talking about social media (my day job kinda) and exchanged contact information. Over time, I saw him get more comfortable sharing his poetry online and so it was only right to invite him onto this platform to share his story!
About Zion
Zion Spotwood is someone who deeply values the power of words and the emotional resonance they carry. His love for poetry stems from its ability to express emotions and thoughts in a creative and meaningful way, shaped by his roots in West Philadelphia—a place he considers synonymous with "the pain and struggle." Poetry serves as an outlet for him to channel his feelings and connect with others, offering a glimpse into his experiences and perspectives. Whether exploring the beauty of language or conveying raw emotions, poetry has allowed Zion to find his voice and share it with the world. To him, poetry is more than just an art form; it is a powerful means of communication and self-expression.
Beyond poetry, Zion is deeply committed to making a positive impact on the youth in his community, particularly through sports and mentorship. Growing up in West Philly, he witnessed firsthand the influence of positive role models and strives to be that guiding figure for the next generation. Currently, he is a health science major at Lincoln University (Class of 2027) on a full-ride scholarship and competes as a collegiate track and field athlete. His dedication to both academics and athletics has shaped his leadership skills, discipline, and ability to connect with people from diverse backgrounds.
Love Letter To Our Queens
Dear Black Women, Thank you. Thank you for being you, for showing up the way you do, for being trailblazers, for being loving, for being resilient. We See You, I See You, And I Appreciate You. You are the backbone of generations, the quiet force behind revolutions, the loud voice that echoes through time, commanding space where you once were denied. You rise, unshaken, when the world tries to bend you. You shine, undimmed, when society tries to shadow your light. You love, unbroken, when the world fails to love you back. And still, you give, you nurture, you build. You are poetry in motion, a symphony of grace and power, a masterpiece painted in the richest shades of history. To the mothers, the daughters, the sisters, to the warriors, the scholars, the healers, to the artists, the dreamers, the lovers, and to those still discovering who they are— Your story matters. Your presence is enough. Your existence is a revolution. Someone out there is inspired by you. They see your grind. They watch your discipline. And because of you, they believe they can do more. Don’t quit. Not for you. Not for them. Be the reason someone else keeps pushing. You’re leading by example. This month, this day, this moment—we honor you. For every sacrifice, every victory, every unspoken struggle, and every overlooked achievement. Black women, you are seen. You are heard. You are cherished. Much Love, A Grateful Heart
Reborn in the Water
I was lost once— wandering through nights where echoes of gunfire became the rhythm of my racing heart, where fear gripped my chest like chains, and survival felt like a borrowed breath. That night in Reading, where bullets cut the air like whispered warnings, where I ran, not just for my life, but for the truth I hadn't yet faced— that life is fragile, fleeting, undeserved. And yet, I was spared. I dropped to my knees, not out of habit, not out of routine, but because the weight of what could’ve been was too heavy for my own hands to hold. Tears fell, prayers rose, and in the silence, God answered. From that moment, my steps changed. No longer running from— but running toward. Bible pages turned like a map unfolding, each verse a whisper of direction, each lesson a lamp for my path. I planned, I prayed, I waited. June came and went, but God’s timing is perfection , and October 27th, 2024, was written in heaven long before I knew. The water wasn’t just water— it was surrender, it was renewal, it was the weight of sin drowning so grace could lift me up. It was the old me buried, so the new me could rise. Now, I don’t just breathe—I live. Not for myself, not for this world, but for the One who saved me, who called me by name, who showed me that my purpose isn’t just to exist, but to shine, to serve, to walk in His light. I thank those who stood beside me, brothers who sharpened me like iron, family who prayed for me, friends who saw the change before I even did. Today, I stand baptized, redeemed, reborn. A follower, a believer, a son of the King. And if my testimony can spark even one light in the darkness of someone else’s storm, then let this be the beginning— not just for me, but for whoever is listening. Acts 2:38—forever I claim, repented, redeemed, washed in His name. A testimony lived, a story made true, I hope this inspires the lost—maybe even you. All glory to God. it's Him who lives in me.
Journal Prompt: What does surrender mean to you—emotionally, spiritually, or mentally?
Journal Prompt: Write a letter to a Black woman who has deeply impacted your life—what would you thank her for?
Poetry Prompt: Explore baptism as a metaphor—what are you washing away, and what rises in its place?
Poetry Prompt: Start a piece with the line: “Your existence is a revolution.”
Writing Prompt: Craft a monologue from someone telling their testimony to a younger version of themselves.
Writing Prompt: Craft a piece titled “Because of Her, I Believe…” and tell the story of a woman whose presence shaped your path.
As always, take what resonates and leave what doesn’t!
With love, always
Natasha K
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