Stupidly falling in love
With myself
Friday, September 11, 2015
Thursday, September 3, 2015
Dedication: Turning 22
To my moonchildren, my melanin soul sisters, my other-mother brothers.
To my teachers, coaches, and mentors, whose blackboards, tracks, living rooms, canvases, hallways, and two room apartments have taught me more about life and myself than any textbook can teach me.
To my blood, separated by ocean, sand, sun dust, but have tied your strings to my fingers so that everything I do, everything I make, will be done with the craft of proud Seaton blood.
To my baby-girls and my maybe-girls. To my wild flowers, wall flowers, and steel-magnolias. The dope-as-hell, the house of fleek, and cunning caterpillars.
To delightful movie-reel memories, encased in the crown of my head. To the wild tongues that shocked me, hot hands that moved me.
To kin woven together in C minor chords. In discord, and in harmony. To outstretched arms, cradling shoulders, and raised voices.
To the dwelling spirits over me, hovering, guiding. Quietly, quietly.
To our insistence on existing, on living. Audaciously. To have our dreams and raise hell about it.
In the beauty of it all, my heart has swelled to my throat with gratitude. Thank you all for sharing in this life-stone with me. By His grace, I have many more miles to go
To my teachers, coaches, and mentors, whose blackboards, tracks, living rooms, canvases, hallways, and two room apartments have taught me more about life and myself than any textbook can teach me.
To my blood, separated by ocean, sand, sun dust, but have tied your strings to my fingers so that everything I do, everything I make, will be done with the craft of proud Seaton blood.
To my baby-girls and my maybe-girls. To my wild flowers, wall flowers, and steel-magnolias. The dope-as-hell, the house of fleek, and cunning caterpillars.
To delightful movie-reel memories, encased in the crown of my head. To the wild tongues that shocked me, hot hands that moved me.
To kin woven together in C minor chords. In discord, and in harmony. To outstretched arms, cradling shoulders, and raised voices.
To the dwelling spirits over me, hovering, guiding. Quietly, quietly.
To our insistence on existing, on living. Audaciously. To have our dreams and raise hell about it.
In the beauty of it all, my heart has swelled to my throat with gratitude. Thank you all for sharing in this life-stone with me. By His grace, I have many more miles to go
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)