free. style. unity.

you ever ponder what your personal heaven looks like? ever imagine it?

in mine, Black women and men are no longer broken, merely appearing whole, held together by forgotten bandages. they are holy. wholly. there is a deep sense of community and belonging, to one another. being with each other feels like being in the comfort of solitude. we share. we take care. we nurture. we grow. we inherently see beauty and value within each other, and we honor it. fully, we see each other. we’re familial, familiar in all arrangements. all relationships. there is peace. life is still life, but we at least at home have peace. we’re protected by proximity to one another. so many shades of brown. gold flecks. iridescent swirls. curls. rhythmic pulse. clashing harmony. pleasure and play. ebbs and flows. we’re still human but.. 

we’re free. 

that’s how i imagine it. 

push.

think about the birth of anything. it’s the messiest, most rhythmically chaotic, ferociously beautiful experience ever. completely natural. primal. it’s an experience that will to take you to the end of yourself then ask for more, if you let it. blood curdling screams. it is painful. it is bloody.

push. 
PUSH. 
one more push. 
just one more. 
YOU CAN DO IT. 

that’s what love is like, what healing is like, what the entire human experience is like when you commit to staying present and living through ALL of it. not around. not over. not under. 

THROUGH. 

and what comes forth is you, your baby to happily and wholeheartedly tend to and take care of for as long as you live. 

what comes forth is love. 
and the fullness thereof. 

i am wild, chile.

i am a wildflower
disorganized in space
seemingly haphazard
my pattern
but beautiful in disarray 
step back 
and
behold me 
if you look close enough 
i am picture perfect 
growing exactly where i should be
exactly when i should
be
nature rules me 
and there is no mistake in that 
no mistaking me