the hard season
will
split you through.
do not worry.
you will bleed water.
do not worry.
this is grief.
your face will fall out and down your skin
and
there will be scorching
but do not worry
keep speaking the years from their hiding places.
keep coughing up smoke from all the deaths you
have died.
keep the rage tender.
because the soft season will come.
it will come.
loud.
ready.
gulping.
both hands in your chest.
up all night.
up all the nights.
to drink all damage into love.
– therapy // Nayyirah Waheed // salt
The ‘hard season will split you through’. There’s no better way to describe this. So much of this year has been pain mixed with anger mixed with instability. I’ve been so raw lately. Triggered by so much, internally and externally. I find it difficult to feign optimism and joy these days. Even my 3-seconds-a-day videos ring hollow. Most days I’m left wondering: how could anyone bring a child into a world filled with so much hatred and alienation? Everything that’s happening in the world is terrifying, overwhelming, and enormously sad. Violence is more common than peace. Heartbreak more common than unity.
So what do we do with this? Where does this hopelessness and hardness fit in the tapestry of life experience? I’m not sure. I barely know how to begin to answer this. So I return to the words of the poet, Nayyirah Waheed.
We keep the rage tender. We learn from it. We speak truth to the fears building in us. We dive deep into ourselves and find the honesty needed to place one foot in front of another. To show up each day for each other.
Somewhere along the way we diverged. We lost ourselves and our homes. Returning isn’t as easy as sweeping claims, deep quotes, and picture-perfect social media posts. I wish it were. But returning is much more tedious than that. It’s more thought-provoking and time-consuming. It can take days, weeks, months, or years. But it can happen. It has to happen…right?
black girl magic & meditation 