spirit
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To Be Human
I have learned not to neglect the physical because I live on the physical. How can I ignore the earth when I was born from it? Not the first womb. Not the first place my human self called home. And I have learned not to neglect the spiritual because it is higher than the physical.… Continue reading
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Short Locs and New Beginnings
I was twenty-two years old when I loc’d my hair. It is the only other time it has been this short (or a little shorter than this). As a spiritual-minded person, I do not think of hair as just hair. I see it also as energy. (I believe the keratin protein in hair contains crystalline… Continue reading
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My Soul is a Witness is LIVE
Good Day Freedom Readers! My Soul is a Witness is LIVE. Amazon Signed Paperback Goodreads About. My Soul is a Witness, a collection of poems that reminds us that there is still hope in our darkest moments. Nothing we go through is without a purpose. No pain we suffer, and no trial we experience happens… Continue reading
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Authentic Support
As an author, I am always thinking about ways I can add value to my audience. It’s easy to point the finger when you don’t see people being as supportive as you think they should be, but I am the person who will always look at me first. In doing this, I have thought about… Continue reading
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Flesh vs. Spirit
My anxiety is loud but so is this victory so is this freedom so is this awakening. My mind is a Warzone where black and white spirits roam both demons and angels alike where sorrow and freedom are both soldiers fighting for the opportunity to possess me to take up space that is the residence… Continue reading
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The Right Poem
When the right poem is born it is all feeling. Taste and touch and nourishment. All heart and aching and lifting. Poetry is a revolution with a profound sense of strength. When the right poem arrives I notice it instantly. It is all moving like earthquakes so powerful that it breaks down mental barriers and… Continue reading
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Vessel
Occasionally you’ll need to empty yourself Cleanse the palate And wash the portrait of their perceptions From your skin Ignore their need to fill you Overturn half-filled glasses Of brokenness Empty yourself spill burden onto the ground And wait to be filled. Continue reading
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