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Story & Lesson Highlights with Marquis “Red” Jackson of Lithonia

Marquis “Red” Jackson shared their story and experiences with us recently and you can find our conversation below.

Marquis “Red”, it’s always a pleasure to learn from you and your journey. Let’s start with a bit of a warmup: What are you being called to do now, that you may have been afraid of before?
Right now, I’m being called to step fully into the role of a voice for others. For a long time, I was comfortable just writing my poetry, keeping it personal, and letting it live quietly in notebooks. But now I feel this pull to share my words on bigger stages, to mentor, and to speak life into young brothers who remind me of myself when I was lost.

What I used to be afraid of was visibility. Putting my story out there meant people would see my scars, my mistakes, my pain. But I realized that hiding those things wasn’t protecting me, it was holding me back. The very things I was afraid to expose are the same things that inspire others when I share them. So I’m being called to be bold, to live transparent, and to walk in purpose with no mask on.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
My name is Marquis “Red” Jackson, and I’m a poet, mentor, and storyteller. I’m the founder of Floetic Sentiments, a bespoke poetry service where I take people’s stories, emotions, and experiences and turn them into personalized poems and keepsakes. What makes it special is that every piece is deeply personal—when someone comes to me, they’re not just buying words in a frame, they’re trusting me with their memories, their love, and their truth.

Beyond my brand, I’m also a best-selling author of Lost Boyz To Men: From My Heart To Your Eyez and the upcoming Dear Pain, Sincerely Me. Both books speak to trauma, transparency, and triumph, because that’s my journey. I grew up a lost boy, but I found my purpose in using poetry to inspire healing and transformation.

I also serve on the board of KIND Mentoring and work hands-on with a program called Young Men of Mathis, where I mentor young Black boys and help them develop values like confidence, diligence, integrity, and perseverance. That work is close to my heart because it allows me to pour back into the next generation and give them the kind of guidance I needed at their age.

Right now, I’m working on expanding my reach—not just as a writer, but as a mentor and a voice in the community. For me, poetry isn’t just art, it’s ministry. It’s my way of showing that pain can be turned into purpose, and brokenness can be turned into beauty.

Appreciate your sharing that. Let’s talk about your life, growing up and some of topics and learnings around that. Who saw you clearly before you could see yourself?
The person who saw me clearly before I could see myself is my wife. From the beginning, she recognized the man I was capable of being even when I was still wrestling with my past, my doubts, and my insecurities. She saw strength in me when all I could feel was weakness. She saw purpose in me when I was still questioning what I had to offer the world.

Her belief in me has been constant. She never let me settle for less than who I was meant to be, and she challenged me to rise into my potential. When I was hesitant about sharing my poetry or stepping into leadership roles, she reminded me that my words carried weight, and that people needed to hear them.

Sometimes it takes someone else’s love and vision to help you see yourself clearly. For me, my wife has been that mirror, reflecting back the best version of me until I was ready to believe it for myself.

What have been the defining wounds of your life—and how have you healed them?
The defining wounds of my life came from growing up without the stability and guidance I needed as a young man. I carried a lot of pain from childhood—feeling abandoned, overlooked, and trying to figure out who I was without a clear example to follow. Those wounds led me down roads where I was searching for validation in all the wrong places, and for a long time I wore my hurt like armor.

Healing didn’t happen overnight. It started with being honest about my pain instead of trying to hide it. Poetry became my therapy. Every word I wrote helped me unpack another layer of trauma, another scar I had buried. Sharing those words out loud turned my shame into strength, because I realized that what I thought would disqualify me was actually what connected me to others.

Faith has also been a huge part of my healing. Trusting God with my brokenness, leaning on prayer, and surrounding myself with people who spoke life into me helped me realize that my wounds don’t define me, but they do shape the way I serve. Today, I don’t see my struggles as setbacks—I see them as the soil that allowed my purpose to grow.

So a lot of these questions go deep, but if you are open to it, we’ve got a few more questions that we’d love to get your take on. What’s a belief or project you’re committed to, no matter how long it takes?
One belief I’m committed to, no matter how long it takes, is that words can change lives. I’ve seen firsthand how a poem, a conversation, or a story can shift the way somebody sees themselves. That’s why I’ll always be dedicated to using my gift to speak life into others, whether it’s through my books, my business, or mentoring young men.

A project I’m committed to is building a legacy of mentorship. Through KIND Mentoring and the Young Men of Mathis program, I pour into the next generation because I know how different my life could have been if I had consistent guidance early on. Even if it takes years, I want to keep creating safe spaces where young men can grow in confidence, integrity, and purpose.

I’m also committed to finishing what I started with my books. Lost Boyz To Men was the beginning, and Dear Pain, Sincerely Me is the next chapter, but my vision is bigger than books. I want to create platforms, resources, and opportunities that will outlive me. For me, it’s not about quick wins—it’s about building something that will keep inspiring long after I’m gone.

Thank you so much for all of your openness so far. Maybe we can close with a future oriented question. What is the story you hope people tell about you when you’re gone?
When I’m gone, I hope they say I was a man who took the broken pieces of his story and built something beautiful with them. That I turned my pain into poetry, my scars into lessons, and my struggles into a light that helped guide others through their own darkness.

I want them to remember that I didn’t just write poems—I lived them. Every line I shared carried my heart, and every word was meant to lift someone higher, to remind them they weren’t alone, and to show them that healing is possible.

I hope they say I was a faithful husband, a present father, a brother to my community, and a mentor to the young kings who needed someone to see them clearly. That I loved deeply, gave freely, and walked humbly in the purpose God set before me.

And when the story is told, I want it to sound like this: he came, he loved, he served, and even when his voice was gone, his words kept speaking life.

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