Grief has a way of swallowing you up at the most inconvenient times. I choose to write until I can breath again.
Tag: healing
aretha, verb.
…you brought that everythingness…
In This Here AFTER
Today I stood in the full body mirror attached to my closet. I stared at my belly and my hips for full minutes in disbelief before huffing out a joke at my own expense to no one, Girl. You need to get it together. You looking like one of them ‘Before‘ pictures on Instagram! I…
resurrection: a work in progress
i lost my shit but
pretended like i was holding it together while leading entire groups in
prayer circles and investigating the bottom of the rock we all found
ourselves looking up from.
because i am, a poem
I want to write a poem that moves with the cadence and crescendo of an old Negro spiritual; I want to write a poem that reaches into the bowel of humanity in a vise like grip milking out compassion and tolerance; I want to write a poem that shares the test of walking through fire…
how poetry saved me from being just another ‘angry black woman’ or why i write
there was a time in my life when i was a hothead. and we’re talking the whole screaming profanities, fist drawn, feet shoulder distance apart, knees slightly bent, shoulders squared, ready to pounce and destroy rage filled angry. my primary trigger: someone i cared about was threatened or harmed. if you threatened to touch a…
if you thought i would take it standing still…you got another thing coming
there was a time when i was both sad and broken. a time when my heart hurt so much that it actually felt like it was an entity moving outside my body. there was a time in my life when each day that i woke up i literally would count the seconds it took for…
a woman with an issue (sermon from a couch)
there was a woman with an issue. 12 years she lived with a hemorrhage. 12 years, she bleed. all her money spent. no one could tell her why. no one could cure her of the issue. for 12 years, she lived. sick. tired. ostracized. alienated. defiled. broke. defeated. who doesn’t understand this woman. this woman…
Lessons I’ve Learned from Children
Children don’t often tell stories in a straight line. They give you fragments. Small pieces from different events dished out over time. As a therapist working with children it’s important to chronicle these bits so together with the kids in your care you can assemble the puzzle that brought them to you in the first…
fearfree living 