poetry allows me to purge and process. its how I breathe.
this yellow, red, flowers of amberburnstrickles over as if pollen,staining the skin and any object it touches, like a vampire,leaving its teeth in skin,leaving the blood to leak from the
heart pained in every corner of itself,this soft, tender, piece of myself,that aches,that keeps shedding up its self to purify,to sanctify the waters,these lagoons of sweet water, cleaning me of
The feminine, the inner divine energy. Repressed for long and it can leave you empty, exhausted, like the light has switched off. Your passion depleted. Your body emptier, physical not
rub the hurt out of my skin,wash the oil out of my hair,scrub the nerves into a calm state,heaving while screeching every morning,knee’s bent, seething,an illness that is just not
Releasing ancestral pain,From the generations of women that came before me,Is like breaking down boulders,One stone at a time, every rock charged up like fire,Carrying emotional torment, unloving mothers and
Within my innermost bones is a warrior,Fighter blood runs through me like paint being spread over canvas,I let the tears baptise me, drape me and form a waterfall for a
I grew up around women who were never enough,Men would call them “too much” women,Women who adorned themselves in gold,would use the higher power in libation to bless themselves and
too open minded,too fat,too thin,laughs to loudly,clumsy,too private,too open,eats too loudly,reads quran too muchthinks too muchsleeps too much,doesn’t eat enough,eats too much,gyms too much,depressedtoo happy,no hips,too much hips.too little skin,too
We shouldn’t born children into worlds that form like clams,We shouldn’t train these children to lose their wombs,to Men who train them to be soldiers,in homes more like Prisons,where Pearls
its funny, because we now live in a world where we are so consumed, so at it with media in our faces. bombarding us with what is, and what should