touching grass

how composting, gardening, meditating, yoga, and kickboxing became grounding practices and spaces for revelation

the plants and insects in my yard doing their silly little tasks as I do mine

because of you

I am stronger.

my spirit has been fortified.

I slow down

and perceive more.

breathing deeply,

I ground into this space

and the contradictions therein.

my goodness…this land

the creations tasked,

our coupled avocado trees,

these papaya seeds scattered,

have bloomed and multiplied

Shots of our green bell pepper plant — a tiny sprouting bell pepper and a larger green bell pepper ready for harvest.

nourished by souls

planted in these bodies

on Taino and Tocobaga land

through a middle passage

etched from Charleston

to Walterboro

to Montezuma

to Starke

to Vienna

even Harlem and Brooklyn

A few photos and items I encountered in a trip through some old family photo albums featuring (from left to right): (1) my mom as a baby; (2) my granddad's polaroid camera from the 50's; (3) me and my granddad; (4) my grandmother; (5) a birthday letter from my mom's foster family; and (6) a photo of my mom, grandparents, and a family friend

—still through all this,

we’ve birthed worlds,

old and new.

we’ve contained and embodied multitudes.

all these forces rise to greet us daily

through ritualistic

interwoven steps

how can I believe that I walk alone?

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This poem is a testimony. It felt closer to a prayer as I typed it out in my backyard this morning.

Since losing my full time job, I’ve spent a lot more time outdoors — gathering an herb or two (🌚🍃), tending to our plants, adding to the compost pile (which feeds our flourishing papaya tree), ceremoniously moving my body in whatever way feels best (most recently, a combination of yoga and kickboxing).

Time seemed to stand still this summer. I had been marked by grief once again—but that’s an essay for another day lol. That ache, that intense yearning to move forward returned to gnaw at my bones.

In this disorientation, I returned home to myself once more. This most recent evolution’s required a focused and ritualistic exercise in presence—fluid structure.

I take this time each day (first thing in the morning when possible) to integrate my interior and exterior worlds—

reading, listening, moving, theorizing, connecting, praying, dancing, boxing, laughing, writing, photographing, observing, shutting the hell up

—all followed by an outpouring of something.

Here, I’ve learned to not let myself float away. I begin my day by connecting to all that wishes to live and breathe and bloom within me.

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A corresponding jam

Here’s a lil piece of music for the road—one of my all time favorites, Yes by Shekinah Glory Ministry. This song eats sonically, lyrically, spiritually, etc. It’s a certified jam and part of the soundtrack for this piece of my life.

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