for awhile now, i’ve been wondering what was going on. or what i wanted out of life at 42. i moved back to my hometown to work the exact job i manifested over 15 years ago. i talk life with my dad and drink my mamas dark roasted coffee every morning. i get lost in the freedom of the wind chimes on the front porch of the home my grandfather purchased after my grandmother passed. i hear his voice in the wooden floors and feel his energy in the room deemed his bedroom that’s now treated like a shrine. i understand why now. and with that, i’ve learned that how we honor and how we hold on determines how we advance.
i already felt a shift occurring before covid-19 ravaged the world and cut short the life of one of my dearest friends at 40. so beautiful. so caring. so human he was. his transition to the ancestors was a familiar pain i thought i would better manage from experiencing loss after loss. but it stings even more now. length and depth can’t be shortened. i find myself taking deeper breaths. swallowing harder. embracing the tears and allowing them release wherever. i let it sting. this is no time to numb. to avoid. to sullenly sit silent. moving on requires moving through, not around. he’d expect that from me. i honor the request.
and then our now which has forever been our normal. we cry. mourn. march. still wale out names and add to the list of black bodies turned memories at the hands of white wretchedness in the alleged united states…
daily it is hard. to be. to exhale. to laugh. to black. but i do anyway. i refuse to be held back or down by someone’s holding on. i will leave you there without wonder of the why.
we all are headed to some glorious place. along the way we learn and forget maybe to remember again. it’s how i’ve chosen to embrace the remembrance that’s fueling my moves. because i know that the same never advances, i will honor and choose new.
a boy who loves – j. darius greene