spells is might.
they mean no harm to the people nor are they thoughts of the sinister.
spells is power and healing and love open ended and over flowing.
They is intentions sat down by our people, for centuries, under this very sun. And we existed in their embrace- guided by natural intuition and inclination. To cast a spell is to send out a thought to the universe- a blessing of peace and purpose.
bad spells. wicked womyn and forked tongues came with capitalism and the white colonizer seeking to take the resources of of womyn and people of color alike. Salem womyn. Witch womyn. Bitches they were under the male gaze. They communed with one another, prayed for one another
both blessed and affirmed one another through the healing of the Earth- our mother.
black magic. painted like the very skins who practiced it- another white myth.
my people saw sun and moon. dreamt in dirt, rose and ran in fields. laughed in the rivers i’ve hoped to know and made life accordingly. They saw signs and felt vibrations.
we honored the earth. and in turn were blessed.
a spell is a reflection of that very truth. It is a soul gift given from one to another. spells ain’t evil. They’re the makings of life.
He is a Black man-
walking side by side, my lover and I cause panic.
A sea of unrest sits on the faces of white womyn as they run further into themselves and the lies told to them.
I wait on coke cans and such when he sends me a line asking to be held
and I reply “come over.”
I hear sirens outside
and that terror mounts.
He is a Black man-
walking to me at night,
my lover may trigger panic and
die by waves of unrest.
I write out of a need to understand the movings inside of me. I write because I want to be able to speak to the raging war and understand it’s factions. I write because I want to own my reality for myself. I write because I want to know myself.
My life has been sprawled throughout dungeons and meadows. I can only understand it through the movement of thought and pen. My life has been shaped by capitalism, racism, patriarchy, ego, and conscious movement. Writing has always served as a way to anchor my experience and seek for the tools of liberation. One of the key components to our rescue from this societies wickedness is an unflinching understanding of the dialectics of our inner workings. My queer and feminist foremothers understood this is the 60’s when they declared the personal to be political. My African ancestors understood this when they created art that reflected and served a purpose in their material lives. My writing is my therapy. It is my spear. I hope to liberate myself and in that process – reach others, build with others and create a new proposition. a richer revolution.
Last week I completed my second chapbook (collection of poetry): “The In-Between Papers”. This small collection of thoughts and prose holds big meaning for me. It is a collection of emotions- understood and cried over. Embraced and celebrated- over the past year. The narrative of the past few months is an intense one as you might imagine from the poetry and writing on this blog. I have found value in owning my truth and sharing it when useful. It helps to lesson the burden or secrets on your heart and helps to place you in the center of your own reality- as an active participant. Folks often draft fantasies out of their lives. They don’t see their own movement within their circumstances and in many instances continue to repeat them. I hope that by sharing these thoughts I can contribute in some way to the growth of someone outside of myself and that I can continue to create, within myself, someone more ready for revolution.
If you would like a copy of this chapbook, hit me in an email! I’d love to send you a copy!!
You can reach me at: email@example.com
*special thanks to the Corner Collective for inspiring and pushing me to get this done!
I used to dream militant dreams
of taking over america to show
these white folks
how it should be done
I used to dream radical dreams
of blowing everyone away
with my perceptive powers
of correct analysis
I even used to think I’d be the one
to stop the riot and
negotiate the peace
then I awoke and dug
that if I dreamed natural
dreams of being a natural
woman doing what a woman
does when she’s natural
I would have a revolution.