We always believed we could fly—no one else did. They only saw us getting as far off the ground as their chains allowed them. But an old goose once told us that there was always a way to make the impossible possible, even if it was a long shot on a distant horizon. So we waited. Waited until the clouds churned black one day and lightning struck the sea. We leapt—some would say fell headfirst. No matter, someone or something caught us, both, and fixed our broken wings. My Mother Said Write: Shadow Work Available on Amazon, Kindle, Books-A-Million, and
They will say we sound like the distant rumble of two trains passing in the wake of night—like the scent of sweet magnolia and a snowing dogwood gallivanting through the city streets, dancing just beneath the down-turned noses of street vendors, invading the savory bites being consumed underneath umbrellas outside of old pubs and well-established breweries by the high-class and low-class, the white-collars and blues, and those without likes of either. Others will say we look like two stars—colliding like kaleidoscope images caught in a spiraling hall of mirrors. Yet, it is we who will say that we are nothing
I have stood on the bank of the Patapsco, staring across the water at the steel trees with no branches or leaves kissing the sky. It is mesmerizing how such a creation could rise from the earth but drink no water, breathe no air, but still live and have the capacity to die. Like those magnificent architectural novelties I gaze upon from beyond the city center banks, many, if not most people who dance in and about their walls barely exists — and rarely strive for anything more. The people barely drink what can be called water. What flows cumbersomely
Who defines you? You? Maybe other people or your parents, siblings, significant others, children, friends, coworkers, mentors, enemies… Maybe it is “what defines you”, like labels, ideas, substances, addictions, mindset, limiting beliefs, fears, and so on. However, what if you are everything defining you and yet, nothing that defines you. What if you are “being” and “nonexistent” all at once? I call myself many things, as do others, but I am only passing through each of those titles and labels to experience the gift of living and refine my soul along the journey, as are you. Allow yourself to be
Nostalgic by Nadira Sayyida It was the last gift you gave me. A bag of seeds. We spent days tending that barren patch of clay– barricading it, watering it, tiling it again and again. Then we started feeding it all those fancy mineral mixes advertised on TV, and spreading cow poop because you said your momma said “baby, growing up through shit makes a person stronger.” So, I guess flowers could be like people too. If only we weren’t so fragile. We held hands, as I poured the tiny little dandelion rocks into those dark holes, and then we cover
Yes, this post is about snow water. Why? Well, because it is an integral part of my family herstory. See, my mother used snow water to heal us in many ways. Her mother used snow water to heal her and her siblings. My mother’s mother’s mother, and so on and on used Saponi snow water to heal our tribe. I will not belabor your eyes and minds with the countless spiritual and physical benefits of snow water, as a quick web search can say more than I have time to say here. Nevertheless, from healing wounds, pink eye, and digestive
Somewhere between power trip and power failure, I exist—in a cold dark place full of warmth—or heat—I dance like water at my best—like ice at my depths. I still birth. —9:16 post meridiem, November 25th, 2018 ♥ Here, I imagine—You feel more at home in my body than I do. I find solace in watching myself trying to be a good mother—a perfect mother—I found honor in knowing that she still only exists adorned in glittering imperfections. I see her tries—all of her attempts that lead to half actions and whole actions have thus far transmuted into You—ten toes, ten
I did not fear the spirits—restless souls, entities and hellhounds—that roamed about our childhood home in my youth, or those that followed me into love. Yet, I feared the makings of my own restless spirit, my demons, my tribe’s maternal traumas, and many attachments—spiritual ones, mental ones, and physical ones. Those fears lead me to fear my greatest joy, one I had only spent countless moons and seasons wishing, praying and meditating upon—a chance at motherhood, a chance at carrying love in my womb and baring a child to crown—a chance many said I could and would never have. I
Stay positive and happy. Work hard and don’t give up hope. Be open to criticism and keep learning. Surround yourself with happy, warm and genuine people. —Tena Desae ♥ Yeah, so I’m pretty sure we took the titles Lord and Lady of the Manor to a whole other level for our anniversary/my birthday getaway, but could there have been a greater display of wealth and splendor?¿—and no—I do not mean the opulent staircase, Grand Portico, or majestic grounds of the Historic Rosemont Manor. No, while all of the latter is surely breathtaking, I am speaking of the hearts that move