To find your balance, master the art of gratitude.
Don’t store the detritus in your body. It will mire down your feet.
Red is the blood dancing through me and orange is my sunset.
Sexual abuse, trauma; Leaves physical scars Too deep to ever leave.
I kneel beside a flower. She is starting to die. I hold her lovingly as her petals cry.
Child, they said, this hurts me
More than it hurts you. No.
I wonder what happens when one walks into the sea?
Mama spends the next hour telling me that men are shit. If I carry one thing into my adult life I better take this one, Mama rants on. Her voice fades into the distance as it has come to do when she begins to lecture.
I Fasted For 2 Days. Here’s What Happened.
Harsh, that's what my mother's generation called verbal abuse. Harshness. Harsh meant you could be spoken to however the adult wished.
In my twenty plus years of writing and creating art, I have rarely collaborated with other creatives. I enjoy being a stand alone, independent creative. Experience had also taught me some harsh lessons in regard to collaberating.